#hot moth summer

[whatthefoucault]

Mothman’s just looking for a good spot to put down his beach towel and have a picnic. Love that for him.

[ogamipukobye]

[dreamhacker606]

Vampire Moths (Calyptra thalictri) are metal as FUCK to just say “Nah I wanna bite” in comparison to other moths who cannot bite because their mouths are too small (even too small enough to eat hence only living to be beautiful and have babies).

[jjunieworld]

LATHER ˒˒ 최수빈

to help raise money for charity you and your friends make your way over to the rich neighborhood to handwash cars in your best skimpy bathing suits and clothing.

pairing ‎⸝⸝⸝ choi soobin x fem!reader 𓄷 iηcℓudᥱs 𓈓 soyeon from gidle, chaewon from le sserafim, and karina from aespa

genre﹙📄﹚⸝⸝⸝ smut, rich playboy!soobin (like very rich), a lot of sexual innuendos, blonde!soobin

warnings ‎⸝⸝⸝ unprotected sex + pull-out method (be safe!!), kinda bratty!reader, mean dom!soobin, degradation kink, name calling (slut, whore, good girl), dacryphilia, blowjob, face fucking, cum swallowing, slight overstimulation (f. rec)

kipo’s note ‎⸝⸝⸝ remember everyone, every body is a bikini body can i get an amen?!!?! :D think of this as the start of my hot girl summer writing era lmaoo（ゝ。∂）this was really pushing my wc of drabbles… lol sorry, what can i say! i hope you enjoy!! all feedback and reblogs are welcome! ♡

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you huffed loudly as you tried to pull down the smallest shorts you’ve ever worn. when they didn’t budge, you slumped into the chair at the stand you and your friends were currently setting up. at least you weren’t that hot with your bikini top and jean shorts that barely covered your ass in the summer sun. for charity, you thought, it’s all for charity.

“alright, i think everything is good,” soyeon said, as her eyes scanned the stand. you, soyeon, chaewon, and karina were on the sidewalk in some rich neighborhood to handwash cars for this charity program you’re all volunteering for.

karina got up from the grass where she was filling water balloons and placing them in a bucket, “water balloons are done! are we ready to get started?” there was a piece of paper on the bucket that read ‘$20 TO GET THESE GIRLS SOAKED!’ on it. before soyeon could reply, chaewon walked up to you three.

“i already got a couple offers—they’re paying big money to see us drenched and washing their cars,” chaewon said as she sat on the plastic chair next to you. soyeon scoffed a little and rolled her eyes as she looked around to the various large and elaborate houses. there were already some men waiting on their porches or flat out in their yards with a chair and a beer.

one man in particular had his eyes on you this whole time. he was one of the ones sitting in his yard—sunglasses low on his nose bridge as he sipped from whatever beer he had. his blonde hair and white button up shirt made him stand out in contrast to the green grass behind him. you gave him a small and sweet smile while trying to make it seem like you didn’t notice his persistent staring. a smirk grew on his face and you knew you had him right where you wanted him. men are so easy, you thought.

the whole idea to even do this car washing service came from soyeon, surprisingly. in her own words, “let’s take advantage of shitty rich men for charity money!” it wasn’t a bad idea—you even suggested that you continue the car washing service in other neighborhoods too.

soyeon grabbed the megaphone from the table and said into it, “all right, gentlemen! who’s ready to get wet?! starting prices are on the sign above me and remember, it costs extra if you want something special! let’s raise some money for charity!” the rest of you all started whooping and cheering as all the men came up to you four like moths to a flame.

you were in the process of taking a lot of twenty dollar bills and passing out water balloons whenever the man from the yard who had been eying you finally started to approach. you had to tear your eyes away from him when a water balloon hit your chest, soaking your bikini top in the process. turning to the culprit with a shocked screech, chaewon smiled at you.

chaewon was completely drenched and sudsy from the car her and soyeon just washed. she held an open water bottle in her hand and you knew exactly what she was about to do with it. “chaewon!” you laughed as you looked at the water dripping off of you. you peeled some of the green balloon off that stuck to you.

“the guy who’s been eyefucking you is coming over, be ready,” she said lowly as she poured the water over your shoulders. karina smirked at you as she took over handling the water balloons. chaewon walked back to the table and you turned to greet the man.

his eyes trailed up and down your—now soaked—body, especially the red bikini top that covered your boobs. he took a water balloon from karina, pressing the twenty dollars into her open hand, and made his way to you. “need any more help getting wet?” he asked you with a sly grin.

now that he was up close, he was really attractive. he also didn’t look that much older than you, which surprised you slightly. you gave him an innocent smile, he was probably some billionaire’s son. “for charity? of course i am, if you’re offering!” you exclaimed as you held out your arms and prepped yourself to be hit with the water balloon.

instead of throwing the balloon he latched his finger underneath the strap of your bikini top. “what if i want a special offer?” he leaned into you and said lowly near the shell of your ear. your faces were inches away from each other as he looked you in your eyes and awaited your answer. the strap of your bikini top snapped back down onto your shoulder as he let go of it.

you could feel heat spread across your body, especially towards the pit of your belly. now, you weren’t really one for a casual—or not so casual—hookup with a stranger, but you were willing to make an exception for a good cause. besides, he was just so alluring. if you weren’t already so wet, you’d bet your panties would be soaked right now.

you looked at him through hooded lids and said lowly, “you’re gonna have to make a generous donation to charity if you want to fuck me, stranger.” his smirk turned into a slick smile.

“name your price and i’ll double it,” he replied, “and it’s soobin.” you licked your lips in thought and his eyes followed the motion. how much could you squeeze from him before he retracted his offer? just how badly did he want to fuck you? you debated for a moment on the price.

“one million dollars!” you settled on, raising a brow at soobin as you lifted your chin. soobin broke out into a playful laugh and you watched his reaction. he began nodding, like it meant nothing to him.

“two million it is!” he replied and the two of you made your way over to the table where the credit card reader was. soyeon’s eyes nearly fell out as she looked at the amount soobin transferred, and yours almost did too when you leaned over to look at the screen. instead of transferring over two million dollars, he transferred over four million.

soobin turned to you and smiled, “for the pretty girl in front of me.” you thanked him with wide eyes. you turned to soyeon and she mirrored your expression as she mouthed, “four million?!”

you turned back to soobin, “i hope you don’t mind waiting for a few moments. i have to wash this car quickly.” soobin shook his head and crossed his arms. “take all the time you need,” he replied.

smiling, you told him you’d be right back. as you were walking away, you heard soyeon cheekily say, “you can set up a chair and watch her if you so desire.” you helped karina grab the soap and brushes and the two of you made your way over to one of the cars waiting to be washed. when the two of you finished, you were completely drenched from head to toe and lathered in soap.

soobin had taken up soyeon’s offer and watched you the entire time. he came up to you with a towel in his hand that he outstretched towards you. you thanked him and dried yourself off as best as you could and tried to get most of the soap off. soobin trailed the tips of his fingers along your jaw, “ready?”

his fingers lifted up your chin so that you looked at him. suddenly flustered as the reality of what you were about to do hit you, all you could manage to do was nod in reply. soobin smiled and took your hand as he led you back to his house. you looked over your shoulder at karina, who was now standing with chaewon as the two of them made kissy faces at you and laughed at how your cheeks heated further from it.

the inside of his house was just as nice as the outside, but you barely got to look around before lips were pressing kisses to your neck. soobin wasted no time with you as he backed you up towards the living room and pushed you down onto the couch. his eyes were dark and full of lust and it made him look like a completely different person than the one you knew just a few seconds ago.

“take your clothes off,” he demanded as he unbuttoned his shorts. he pulled them down, revealing his bulging erection, as you crossed your legs and leaned forward slightly. “why don’t you take them off for me?” you challenged.

the corner of soobin’s mouth lifted as he took a step towards you. his tall figure hovered over yours as he hooked his fingers under your bikini straps and pulled them down. goosebumps raised along your skin where he touched and a shiver ran up your spin when he started to untie your bikini top at your back. once it was untied, he tossed it to the side onto the couch.

you shivered slightly as a cool chill swept over your now exposed breasts, making your nipples perk up. soobin rubbed his thumbs over them as he grabbed your breasts. “so beautiful…” he muttered to himself. his fingers trailed down your stomach and stopped just above the hem of your jean shorts. he looked up at you briefly, darkly, and you hooked your thumbs onto the fabric and pulled it down along with your panties until you were now completely naked under him.

soobin’s eyes raised to connect with yours, “now, are you gonna suck my cock or do i have pay more money, you fucking whore?” you reached for the band of his boxers but he slapped your hands away.

soobin swiped his thumb across your lips, “open.” you did as you were told, mouth open wide with your tongue hanging out as you waited.

“good girl,” soobin smiled. he pulled down his boxers, hard cock slapping against his stomach. you faltered, closing your mouth as you saw just how big he was. soobin pumped himself a couple times before looking at you with a raised brow.

you shook your head a little, ready to speak about how you definitely weren’t fitting him in your mouth before soobin roughly grabbed your chin. “didn’t i say open?” he asked you before pressing a sloppy kiss to your lips. you whimpered into the brief kiss before he pulled away and brought your lips to the tip of his cock.

your mouth opened wider willingly for soobin as you began to swallow him inch by inch. tears pricked in your eyes and you looked up at him when you were about halfway down his cock. soobin’s head was thrown back as small whines left his lips. his hands were entangled in your wet hair, aiding you.

when you stopped, already feeling him at the back of your throat, he looked down at you and moved your head down further. “you’re a good girl, aren’t you?” soobin asked you and you nodded weakly, tears streaming down your cheeks. “so fucking take it,” he added.

soobin began thrusting into your throat, grunting in pleasure as you moved up and down him. soon, his mouth hung open as warm cum spilled down your throat with his release. soobin pulled you off him, thumb catching his cum that spilled out and pushing it back into your mouth. “swallow,” he demanded, “all of it.” your brows furrowed at the salty taste and you swallowed thickly, whimpering at the pain of your bruised throat.

“such a slut…” he trailed when you opened your mouth to show how you swallowed all of his cum. your hips rolled against the couch, needing any bit of friction you can get. “soobin, please…” you whined hoarsely. you needed to feel him inside you. you need to feel how much he stretched out your aching pussy.

“turn around. bend over the top of the couch,” soobin told you. you turned and got up onto the couch, spreading your legs and bending so your ass was in the air for him. his hand smoothed over the curves of your body as he spread you apart.

“already so wet and i haven’t even touched you… you want me to stick my cock inside you, huh, you slut? fill you up?” soobin asked you as he mockingly rubbed his tip against your wet entrance. you bit your bottom lip and nodded, hips pushing back onto him as you stared at him desperately.

“please,” you whined again, “want you to fill me up…” soobin roughly pushed into you and you let out a loud gasp from the suddenness. he pounded into you rigorously, big hands gripping onto your hips as he pulled you towards him to match his pace.

you cried out as your thighs began to tremble. “s-soobin… gonna cum!” you whimpered, biting down hard to try and silence your moans but to no avail.

“yeah? you like that?” soobin hissed between moans as he fucked into you harder, “you like me fucking you like this, whore? you wanna cum around my cock like a good girl?” you nodded desperately and buried your face into your arms as you cried out again from his tip hitting your cervix. the rope in you snapped and your warm cum leaked down soobin’s cock as he continued fucking you, leaving a creamy white ring around his base.

wet sounds filled his living room as you gripped onto the cushion of his couch, “t-too much!” tears wet your cheeks as you looked back at him with furrowed brows.

soobin laughed humorlessly, but it was staggered. he breathed heavily as he pulled you up from the couch, “take it like the slut that you are.” you felt him twitch and he quickly pulled out of you. whining at the sudden loss, soobin flipped you around and cursed lowly before he began pumping his cum covered cock rapidly over your boobs.

his cum shot out onto them, painting them a pretty white as soobin whimpered. he took your chin again and brought his lips to yours roughly as he slipped his tongue in your mouth. you wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him closer as the kiss deepened.

once both of your lungs were on fire, soobin pulled away a little and you could feel the smile on his lips. he pressed another quick kiss to your lips, “i bet your charity will be very pleased with my donation.”

soobin pulled away fully and you shied away from his stare with heated cheeks. the two of you got cleaned up and made your way back out to your charity event. it was dusk now and it seemed like the girls were just about to start wrapping everything up. “the prodigal daughter returns!” soyeon exclaimed, causing the others to laugh.

you hid your face in your hands as you helped them clean up. the four of you ended up raising almost seven million dollars for your charity that day, and your friends made sure to thank “mr. four million.”

© jjunieworld - all rights reserved. please do not repost on any social media sites, translate, or modify any of my works.

taglist: @my313 @naomiarai @lunathewritingcat @jjunberry @gothgyuu @spooksh0wbabe @beargyuuzz @kittyhyuka @dani-is-tired @riaawr @nxzz-skz @rapmonie2047 @soobieboobiedoobiedaboobie @yeonjunsfox @jeonghaniehaee

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[midastouch013]

"Find Me Attractive Again"

Based on this request

Summary: You had a wonderful girlfriend, and so what happens when you discover she has an eating disorder

Warnings: Eating disorder, Hurt Nat, Sad Nat, Neglecting Y/n. Panic Attacks. Purging, throwing up. Major hurt/comfort, from both sides.

P.S I wasn't really satisfied with the ending, so I apologise. I also took my own spin on it since it was kind vague, so I hope you like it'.

P.S.S And also, after such heavy fics, I'd really like for someone to drop me a fluffy one, Not just Nat, any Marvel woman please.

-----------

It was a typical summer day in New York City when your paths first crossed. You, wrapped up in the chaos of your medical residency, were rushing through the streets, white coat flapping behind you like a superhero’s cape, while Natasha Romanoff, the infamous Black Widow, was navigating the crowds with the ease of someone who had seen it all.

It was at a street corner where fate decided to intervene, in the form of an iced coffee and a collision. Natasha, in her sleek elegance, accidentally bumped into you, sending her cold drink cascading down your front.

“Shit, I’m so sorry!” Her voice was a mix of genuine contrition and a hint of amusement.

You blinked, the cold seeping through your shirt, but you couldn’t help but chuckle at the situation. “Well, at least it’s a hot day,” you replied, trying to brush off the mess.

Natasha quickly handed you some napkins, her green eyes twinkling with amusement. "You're a humour one I see"

"That I am" you grinned "I've also cost you your coffee"

Natasha went to open her mouth, but you spoke instead.

“Let me make it up to you. Can I buy you another drink?”

"But I'm the one who spilt mine on you?" her eyebrow raised as she questioned.

"And?"

"I should be the one buying for you?"

You're smile didn't falter " Where's the chivalry in that?"

And that was the start of it all. What began as a clumsy encounter turned into a friendship neither of you expected. Natasha’s charm, mixed with her trademark snark, drew you in like a moth to a flame. Soon, the two of you were spending your precious free time together, swapping stories over drinks or taking long walks through the city.

Despite her guarded nature, Natasha opened up to you in ways she hadn’t with anyone else. You became her confidante, her sanctuary in a world filled with chaos and danger. And in turn, you found solace in her presence, a respite from the relentless demands of your residency.

As your friendship deepened, so did your feelings for her. You found yourself falling for the enigmatic Avenger, captivated by her strength, her wit, and the vulnerability she only showed to you. And one day, gathering every ounce of courage you had, you asked her out on a date.

To your delight, Natasha said yes, her smile lighting up the room in a way you had never seen before. And just like that, your friendship blossomed into something more, a new chapter in both of your lives.

Now, as you walked hand in hand through the bustling streets of New York, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of contentment wash over you. With Natasha by your side, you felt invincible, ready to take on whatever challenges life threw your way.

Little did you know, however, that behind the redhead’s confident facade lay a secret she was desperate to keep hidden. An invisible battle she fought every day, one that threatened to consume her from within.

And so, all it would take for you to find out, as a plate of untouched food, and certain other stuff

---

The elevator door opened with a ding, admitting you into the familiar warmth of your shared home (Floor in the compound that Tony had so happily given) with Natasha. The faint scent of breakfast lingered in the air, a reminder of the meal you had meticulously prepared before your short 12-hour shift at the hospital.

But as you stepped further into the living space, your brow furrowed in confusion. The plate of food you had set out for Natasha sat untouched on the dining table, a solitary fork resting against the edge.

"Nat?" you called out, your voice echoing in the quiet apartment. There was no response, just the eerie stillness of an empty room.

Concern gnawed at the edges of your mind as you ventured further into the living space, scanning every corner for any sign of your elusive girlfriend. But Natasha was nowhere to be found.

However, before you could think what to do next, the sound of retching echoed through the apartment, sending a shiver of dread down your spine. Without a moment's hesitation, you bolted towards the bathroom, your heart pounding in your chest.

As you flung open the door, the sight that greeted you was enough to make your stomach churn. There stood Natasha, hunched over the toilet, her face contorted in agony as she forced herself to purge.

Instinct took over as you rushed to her side, your hands reaching out to grasp hers and pull them away from her mouth. "Nat, stop," you urged, your voice laced with urgency and concern.

For a moment, she resisted, the muscles in her arm tense with the effort of her struggle. But slowly, reluctantly, she relented, allowing you to pry her fingers away from their self-destructive task.

The sight of her trembling form, tears glistening in her eyes, tore at your heartstrings like nothing else. You wanted to wrap her in your arms, to shield her from the demons that haunted her, but you knew that this was a battle she had to fight on her own terms.

Gently, you guided her away from the toilet, leading her to the sink where you wet a washcloth and pressed it against her clammy forehead. "It's okay, Nat," you murmured, your voice a soothing balm against the turmoil raging within her.

As you helped Natasha up from the cold tiles of the bathroom floor, her silence weighed heavily in the air, a palpable barrier between you. You guided her to the bed, her movements sluggish and unsteady, and gently urged her to sit down while you prepared a bath.

With practiced efficiency, you filled the tub with warm water, adding a few drops of lavender oil to help soothe her frazzled nerves. But as you turned to help Natasha undress, you noticed the way she recoiled from your touch, her body tensing at the slightest contact.

Your heart ached at the sight, a pang of sadness settling in the pit of your stomach. You had always prided yourself on being there for Natasha, on offering her the unwavering support and love she so desperately needed. But now, faced with her silent withdrawal, you felt utterly helpless, like a bystander watching helplessly as a storm raged on the horizon.

With a heavy sigh, you stepped back, giving Natasha the space she seemed to need. You watched in silence as she rose from the bed, her movements slow and deliberate, before making her way to the bathroom.

It was only then that you noticed the small click of the lock as she closed the door behind her, a barrier sealing her off from the outside world. The realization hit you like a punch to the gut, a stark reminder of the walls Natasha had built around herself, walls that even you, with all your love and devotion, could not penetrate.

For a moment, you stood there in the empty room, the weight of Natasha's silence bearing down on you like a leaden cloak. But then, with a resolute shake of your head, you pushed aside your own doubts and fears, determined to stand by her side no matter what.

Taking a deep breath, you squared your shoulders and made your way to the bathroom door, your hand poised to knock. But at the last moment, you hesitated, the sound of running water and Natasha's soft sobs echoing through the wood.

But when the sound of retching pierced through the closed bathroom door, a surge of panic shot through you like a bolt of lightning. Without a second thought, you abandoned your plans to change and rushed back to the bathroom, your heart pounding in your chest.

With a swift motion, you twisted the doorknob, but to your dismay, it refused to budge. Locked. The realization sent a fresh wave of fear coursing through your veins, igniting a primal instinct to protect Natasha at all costs.

"Nat, open the door!" you called out, your voice tinged with desperation. But there was no response, just the sickening sound of her struggle echoing through the small space.

With a burst of adrenaline-fueled determination, you threw your weight against the door, the wood groaning in protest as it gave way beneath your force. For a moment, everything seemed to blur together in a haze of motion and sound, until finally, the door swung open with a resounding crash.

And there she was, hunched over the toilet once more, her body wracked with violent spasms as she forced herself to purge. Without hesitation, you rushed to her side, your hands reaching out to grasp hers and pull them away from their self-destructive task.

"Nat, please stop," you pleaded, your voice cracking with emotion. But this time, there was no resistance, no struggle against your touch. Instead, Natasha collapsed against you, her tears mingling with the cool touch of your skin.

With a sense of resolve, you refused to leave Natasha alone in the bathroom this time. Instead, you stayed by her side, offering silent support as she struggled with the demons that haunted her.

As the water continued to run, filling the tub with warm, comforting steam, you gently guided Natasha towards it. She hesitated for a moment, her eyes cast downwards, before finally sinking into the water with a heavy sigh.

You stood by the tub, your presence a silent reassurance as Natasha submerged herself beneath the surface, her shoulders tense with the weight of her burdens. With a soft exhale, you reached for the shampoo, pouring a small amount into your palm before lathering it into her hair with gentle, soothing strokes.

"I won't look," you murmured softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I promise."

Natasha remained silent, her gaze fixed on some distant point beyond the confines of the bathroom. But you could sense the tension in her body, the invisible barriers she had erected to keep you at arm's length.

Undeterred, you continued to wash her hair, your fingers working through the tangles with practiced precision. With each stroke, you hoped to chip away at the walls she had built around herself, to offer her a glimpse of the love and acceptance that lay waiting on the other side.

But despite your best efforts, Natasha remained distant, her silence a heavy weight in the air between you. It was as if she had retreated into herself, lost in the labyrinth of her own thoughts and fears.

With a heavy heart, you finished washing her hair, rinsing away the suds with gentle care. Then, reaching for the washcloth, you began to bathe her body, moving with slow, deliberate motions as you washed away the stains of the outside world.

Gently, you lifted Natasha from the bathtub, her body feeling almost weightless in your arms. The sight of her frail form, bones protruding beneath the thin veil of her skin, sent a shiver of concern down your spine. It was a stark reminder of the toll her eating disorder had taken on her body, a silent battle she fought day in and day out.

With tender care, you carried her back to the bed, laying her down with the utmost gentleness. You tucked the blankets around her, the soft fabric a comforting cocoon against the cold reality of her struggles.

As Natasha lay there, her eyes distant and unfocused, you made your way to the kitchen, your mind racing with thoughts of how to help her. You knew that she needed nourishment, both for her body and her soul, but convincing her to eat was a battle in itself.

With a determined resolve, you rummaged through the pantry, searching for something light and easy to stomach. Finally, you settled on a plate of sliced fruit, the vibrant colors a stark contrast to the darkness that threatened to consume Natasha from within.

Returning to the bedroom, you found Natasha still lying there, her gaze fixed on some invisible point in the distance. Carefully, you placed the plate of fruit on the bedside table, hoping that the sight of it would stir something within her.

"Nat," you said softly, your voice a gentle reminder of your presence. "I brought you a snack. It's just some fruit. Would you like some?"

For a moment, there was no response, just the steady rise and fall of Natasha's chest as she breathed in and out. But then, slowly, almost imperceptibly, she reached out a trembling hand, fingers curling around a slice of apple.

You held your breath, watching intently as Natasha brought the fruit to her lips, her movements hesitant and uncertain. But then, with a small nod of encouragement from you, she took a tentative bite, the sweetness of the apple filling the air between you.

A sense of relief washed over you as you watched Natasha eat, each bite a small victory in the battle against her eating disorder.

As Natasha slowly nibbled on the fruit, you settled beside her on the bed, the familiar weight of her body a comforting anchor in the storm of uncertainty. With a soft click of the remote, you turned on the television, the familiar theme song of F.R.I.E.N.D.S filling the room with its nostalgic melody.

You glanced over at Natasha, her gaze fixed on the screen, her lips curved ever so slightly in the beginnings of a smile. It was a small victory, a glimmer of light in the darkness that threatened to consume her.

With a tender smile of your own, you wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close against your side. The warmth of her body pressed against yours, the steady rhythm of her breath a soothing lullaby in the quiet of the night.

Together, you watched as the familiar antics of Ross, Rachel, Monica, Chandler, Joey, and Phoebe unfolded on the screen before you. The laughter of the characters, the camaraderie of their friendships, served as a reminder of the bonds that held you and Natasha together, even in the darkest of times.

And as the episode came to an end, you turned to Natasha, the ghost of a smile still lingering on her lips. "Feeling a little better?" you asked softly, your voice a gentle caress against the silence of the room.

Natasha hesitated for a moment, her eyes flickering with uncertainty. But then, with a small nod of her head, she leaned into your embrace, her body relaxing against yours.

It was a small victory, a flicker of hope in the midst of despair. But for now, in this moment of quiet intimacy, it was enough. Together, you would face whatever challenges lay ahead, knowing that as long as you had each other, you could weather any storm that came your way. As you snuggled into Natasha, the fragile contours of her body pressed against yours, you couldn't help but feel a surge of emotion welling up inside you. With each delicate curve of her form, you could feel the sharp edges of her bones, a painful reminder of the toll her eating disorder had taken on her.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you held her close, the weight of her fragility pressing down on you like a leaden weight. "Why, Nat?" you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "Why do you do this to yourself?"

For a moment, there was only silence, the weight of Natasha's unspoken pain hanging heavy in the air between you. But then, as your grip tightened around her, almost as if you were clinging to her for dear life, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I..." she began, her words faltering as if caught in the tangled web of her thoughts. But then, with a small shake of her head, she fell silent once more, the words hanging between you like an unspoken promise.

--

As you thought Natasha had drifted off to sleep, you reached for your phone, the glow of the screen illuminating the dimly lit room. With a deep breath, you dialed the number for the hospital, your heart pounding in your chest as you prepared to make a decision that would change everything.

"Hello, this is Dr. Y/l/n," you began, your voice steady despite the nerves that churned in the pit of your stomach. "I need to take the next month off."

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line, followed by the sound of a hesitant voice. "Dr. Y/l/n, are you sure? We're short-staffed as it is, and your patients—"

"I'm sure," you interrupted, your tone firm and unwavering. "I've already made up my mind."

The person on the other end of the line hesitated, clearly taken aback by your sudden decision. "But Dr. Y/l/n you're one of our top surgeons. We can't afford to lose you—"

"I understand that," you replied, your voice tinged with frustration. "But right now, I need to take care of someone who needs me more than anyone else."

There was a moment of silence as the gravity of your words hung heavy in the air between you. And then, with a resigned sigh, the person on the other end of the line relented, agreeing to grant you the time off on the condition that you'd go unpaid for the month.

As you ended the call, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over you. You knew that taking time off from the hospital was a risk, but in that moment, the only thing that mattered was being there for Natasha when she needed you most.

But as you turned to check on her, you realized that she had been awake the whole time, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Natasha's voice cut through the silence of the room, her words heavy with emotion. "Why did you do that?" she asked, her eyes searching yours for answers.

You met her gaze, the weight of her question hanging heavy in the air between you. Taking a deep breath, you reached out to brush a stray strand of hair from her face, your fingers lingering against her cheek.

"Because you needed me," you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "Because I love you, Natasha, and I would do anything for you."

Tears welled in Natasha's eyes as she listened to your words, her expression a mix of gratitude and disbelief. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the steady rhythm of your heartbeat. "For everything."

As Natasha's words hung in the air, a heavy silence settled between you, punctuated only by the soft hum of the room's ventilation system. You could see the turmoil swirling behind her eyes, the weight of her burdens threatening to crush her beneath their weight.

"Why did you do that, Natasha?" you asked gently, your voice laced with concern. "Why do you hurt yourself like this?"

Natasha hesitated for a moment, her gaze drifting away from yours as she searched for the words to explain the unexplainable. "It's… it's complicated," she began, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Try me," you urged, your tone soft and understanding. "I want to understand, Natasha. I want to help you."

With a heavy sigh, Natasha began to speak, her words halting and uncertain at first, but gaining strength with each passing moment. "It's not just me," she confessed, her voice trembling with emotion. "It's… it's the comments, the stares, the whispers behind my back."

Your heart ached as you listened to her words, the pain and anguish etched into every syllable. You knew all too well the harsh realities of the world Natasha inhabited, the constant scrutiny and judgment that followed her wherever she went.

"It's like… like I'm never good enough," Natasha continued, her voice cracking with emotion. "No matter how hard I try, no matter how much I achieve, it's never enough. And the news, they… they only make it worse."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you watched Natasha unravel before you, the weight of her suffering a burden too heavy for her to bear alone. In that moment, you felt a surge of anger rise up within you, a burning indignation at the injustices Natasha had endured.

"And..." She trailed off

"And?" You pulled her into your arms, holding her close as if to show that you were there for her. You could feel the ache in her voice, the raw vulnerability laid bare before you.

"I just... You," Natasha began, her voice trembling with uncertainty. "You used to look at me with such... such longing. You'd initiate everything, your touch, your kisses... But lately, it's like you don't even see me anymore."

Your heart clenched at her words, unsure of what to do or say.

"I thought... I thought maybe it was because of how I looked," Natasha continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "I thought if I worked out more, if I stopped eating, if I... if I purged, maybe you'd find me attractive again."

Your breath caught in your throat at her confession, the pain of her self-inflicted suffering tearing at your heartstrings. How could she think such a thing? How could she believe that her worth was tied to her appearance?

But you remained silent, allowing Natasha to speak, to purge the demons that haunted her soul. For in that moment, you realized that the only way to help her heal was to listen, to truly listen, without judgment or condemnation.

"I just wanted to be enough for you," Natasha whispered, her voice breaking with emotion. "But I was so wrong, wasn't I? I was so wrong."

And as she buried her face in her hands, her words seemed to sink in, making you feel like the ground beneath you is crumbling away, leaving you adrift in a sea of guilt and self-loathing.

Your hands trembled as you pushed yourself away from Natasha, the weight of her words crashing down on you like a tidal wave. You stumbled backward, your eyes wide with shock as you realized the role you had played in her pain.

"Oh my god," you whispered, your voice barely audible above the sound of your own ragged breaths. " I did that"

Natasha's eyes widened in concern as she watched you retreat, her voice tinged with fear. "Y/n? Are you okay?"

But you couldn't answer, couldn't bring yourself to face her, not when the guilt threatened to suffocate you. You hated yourself in that moment, hated the way you had let work consume you, the way you had neglected the person you loved most in the world.

And then it hit you, a wave of overwhelming emotion crashing over you like a tsunami. You sank to the floor, your body racked with sobs as the weight of your own self-loathing bore down on you like a heavy burden.

Natasha's voice was a distant echo in the darkness, her words lost amidst the chaos of your own thoughts. But you could feel her presence beside you, her hand reaching out to touch your shoulder in a silent gesture of comfort and support.

But you couldn't bear it, couldn't bear the thought of her touching you, not when you were the reason she was in pain. So you pushed her away, stumbling to your feet and retreating further into the shadows.

"I'm sorry," you choked out, your voice barely audible above the storm of your own despair. "I'm so sorry, Natasha. I didn't mean to… I didn't know…"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," the words tumbled from your lips in a frantic mantra, each repetition a desperate plea for forgiveness. But the only one you blamed was yourself, your own self-loathing swallowing you whole.

Natasha's voice was a distant echo in the chaos of your mind, her words lost in the tumult of your own despair. But you could feel her presence beside you, a steady anchor in the storm.

But even as she reached out to comfort you, you recoiled from her touch, the weight of your guilt too heavy to bear. You felt betrayed by yourself, , the person who had allowed this to happen.

"I'm sorry," you choked out once more, your voice hoarse with emotion. "I'm so sorry, Natasha. I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't mean to…"

But the words fell flat, empty and hollow in the face of your own self-condemnation. And as you sank further into the darkness, the weight of your own despair threatening to consume you, you knew that there was no escape from the demons that haunted you.

"Y/n, listen to me," Natasha's voice was firm, cutting through the haze of panic that clouded your mind. "You need to breathe. Deep breaths, okay?"

You nodded, your chest heaving as you struggled to regain control of your racing heart.

"That's it," she encouraged, her voice a soothing balm against the storm raging within you. "Inhale... and exhale. You're okay, I've got you."

You focused on her words, on the steady rhythm of her breathing, allowing them to anchor you in the present moment.

"I'm not going anywhere, Y/n," Natasha continued, her grip on your hand reassuringly firm. "I'm right here with you, and I'm not letting you go."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you clung to her, the weight of your own self-loathing threatening to crush you beneath its suffocating embrace.

"I'm so sorry, Natasha," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "I didn't-"

Natasha silenced you with a gentle finger against your lips, her eyes soft with understanding. "Shh, it's okay," she murmured.

With trembling hands, you grasped Natasha's palms in yours, feeling the warmth of her touch seeping into your skin like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. Without a word, you pulled her into a tight embrace, needing to feel the steady rhythm of her heartbeat against your chest.

"I love you, Tasha," you whispered, your voice cracking with emotion. "I love you more than anything in this world."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you pressed kisses against her forehead, her cheeks, her neck, each touch a silent testament to the depth of your love for her.

"I'm sorry for everything," you murmured between kisses, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry for making you feel unloved, for neglecting you when you needed me most. I promise, I'll do better. I'll be better for you, for us."

Natasha's arms tightened around you, her own tears mingling with yours as she buried her face against your chest. "I love you too, Y/n," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "And I forgive you. We'll get through this together, I promise."

---

Over the next few days, you devoted yourself wholeheartedly to supporting Natasha, determined to make amends for your past neglect. You woke up early to prepare nutritious meals for her, ensuring that she had the sustenance she needed to fuel her body and soul.

You gently guided her through each day, offering words of encouragement and reassurance whenever she needed them. You deleted all the news apps from her phone, shielding her from the harsh judgments and scrutiny of the outside world.

And when you learned of the agents who had dared to badmouth Natasha, you wasted no time in tracking them down and giving them a piece of your mind. With a fiery determination burning in your eyes, you confronted them head-on, refusing to let them tarnish Natasha's reputation any further.

"You have no idea what she's been through," you spat, your voice laced with righteous anger. "She's one of the strongest, most resilient people I know, and she deserves nothing but respect."

The agents cowered before you, their faces pale with guilt and shame. And as you walked away, leaving them to ponder the consequences of their actions, you felt a sense of satisfaction wash over you.

Every time you sensed Natasha spiraling, you were there, a steady anchor in her stormy sea. You showered her with kisses, peppering her face with affectionate gestures, a silent reminder of the love that enveloped her. Your touch was a constant presence, your fingers entwined with hers or softly tracing patterns on her skin, a tangible reassurance that you were there for her, always.

You made sure she had everything she needed, anticipating her wants before she even voiced them. Whether it was a warm meal or a comforting hug, you were always one step ahead, ready to offer her solace in her moments of need.

But even as you tended to her, Natasha noticed the turmoil brewing beneath your surface. Despite your smiles and jokes, she saw the shadows lurking in your eyes, the weight of your own struggles weighing heavily on your shoulders. And though you tried to hide it, she knew that your sleepless nights were spent wrestling with demons of your own.

---

As the time came for you to return to work after a month of devoted care for Natasha, a sense of dread settled in the pit of your stomach. The thought of leaving her alone, vulnerable to the demons that had haunted her in the past, filled you with a gnawing anxiety.

You found yourself making up excuses, delaying your departure in a futile attempt to hold onto the precious moments you had shared together. But Natasha saw through your facade, her eyes searching yours for the truth that you were desperate to hide.

"Y/n, what's going on?" she asked, her voice gentle but firm. "You've been acting strange lately, avoiding going back to work, making excuses to stay. Is something wrong?"

Your heart constricted at the concern in her voice, the weight of your own fears threatening to suffocate you. But you couldn't bring yourself to voice the truth, to admit to the depths of your own insecurities.

"I… I just don't want to leave you," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm afraid that if I go back to work, things will go back to how they were before. I'm afraid of losing you Tasha."

Tears welled in your eyes as you spoke, the vulnerability of your confession laying bare the depths of your fear. But Natasha's response was immediate, her arms wrapping around you in a tight embrace, her warmth a comforting balm against the storm raging within you.

"Y/n, listen to me," she said, her voice steady and unwavering. "I'm not going anywhere. We've been through hell and back together, and I'm not about to let anything tear us apart."

With a heavy heart and a sense of resolve, you made the difficult decision to resign from your position, knowing that your place was by Natasha's side. As you prepared to leave, a fierce determination burned within you to make the most of the time you had left together.

With a hunger born of love and longing, you pulled Natasha into your arms, your lips seeking hers in a passionate kiss.

An so as you hold Natasha close, your heart overflowing with love and devotion, you feel the need to express the depths of your feelings to her.

"Nat," you begin, your voice soft and tender, "I need you to understand something. I love you more than words can express, more than I ever thought possible."

You press a gentle kiss to her forehead, savoring the warmth of her skin against your lips before continuing.

"I love you for who you are, not for your past or your appearance. Every part of you, every scar, every imperfection, it's all part of what makes you so incredibly beautiful to me."

Your fingers trace the contours of her face, your touch reverent and adoring.

"And I want you to know that my love for you will never waver. No matter what challenges we face, no matter what obstacles come our way, I will always be by your side, loving you with every beat of my heart."

Tears shimmer in Natasha's eyes as she listens to your words, her own heart swelling with emotion.

"I love you too, Y/n," she whispers, her voice choked with tears. "More than you'll ever know."

---------

[wqnwoos]

you and choi seungcheol have been playing a game since the start of the summer.

it sort of went unspoken; lingering gazes and lopsided smirks instead of words. cat-and-mouse; who’s going to cave? who’s going to give in? who’s going to lose?

it was fun, at first. entertaining, even, sneaking out with him at night, speeding down your small town roads in his car, going absolutely nowhere. sneaking back in, muffling your giggles and waving him off from your window so he knows you’re inside okay.

ice-cream, sticky fingers, sandals on hot pavement; firework shows, drive-in movies, mall shopping. and through it all, undeniable tension lacing your every interaction with him. the feeling’s addictive — you could get drunk on it, the way the very air seems to crackle when the two of you are together.

the thing about addiction is that the highs don’t last long.

your sister calls it a situationship; your best friend calls it a pain in the fucking ass; your other friends call it a fear of commitment form both sides.

whatever it is, it’s starting to eat you alive, and you think you might just be the one to lose. not to cave, because you’re not stupid enough to actually confess to choi seungcheol; but you’re stupid enough to feel the need to.

especially on nights like tonight, where he rolls the windows down, lets the wind blow through his hair, sends you soft smiles every few minutes. seungcheol always has music playing in his car, you’ve noticed, but then, he’s been like that since you guys were in high school, three, four years ago. seventeen year old seungcheol was always getting in trouble with the teachers for having headphones in, among other things.

you were the opposite. invisible — quiet, one of those pleasure to have in class students. seungcheol was more than visible, he was noticeable. everyone noticed him.

“remember when you flipped all the chairs in mr daniels’ classroom, back in school?” you ask suddenly, breaking the silence.

a slightly smirk tilts his lips. “i didn’t know you knew about that.”

you scoff. “please. everyone knew about that.”

“he was an asshole,” seungcheol shrugs, instead of denying it. “he had it coming.”

“some might say you were an asshole back then,” you counter, and he whips his head to face you for a moment, before turning back to the road.

“who would say that?” seungcheol demands, but you can tell by his tone that he’s only joking, and he knows you’re joking too. “surely not you,” he adds. “we never even spoke in high school.”

which is true. your worlds hadn’t collided until well after high school — until last summer, when you were both twenty, through a friend of a friend of a friend, or something of the sort. now, you’re twenty-one, and he’s sneaking you out your parents’ house practically every night just for “a drive”.

these drives are slowly becoming self-destructive, because you’re falling deeper and deeper into him. he’s a flame and you’re the moth, running straight towards him blindly — and getting shocked when you get burnt.

“yeah, but i at least knew who you were back then!” you retort immediately, pulling yourself back to the present conversations.

“i knew you too!” seungcheol defends indignantly, his jaw dropping slightly.

“sure, cheollie,” you snort, patting his free hand.

he grabs your hand in his, interlacing your fingers, and you have to remind yourself to breathe, he’s just doing it to emphasise a point, this isn’t real, this isn’t more. “i did!” he insists. “we had the same english class. you sat in the second row from the back, right beside the window, and you had a clear pencil case and pastel highlighters, and at lunch you sat with your friends under the tree by the basketball court, and you had this ring” — he taps one of your favourite rings — “on almost all the time. and back in freshman year, you were nominated for class president and you turned it down. every time you had to introduce yourself and say a fun fact, you’d say your name and your favourite colour.”

you’re speechless, and seungcheol is enjoying it. “i told you,” he says cockily. “i did know you.”

“i stand corrected,” you say finally, breathing in deeply, thanking the stars above that he’s just pulled into your street, and you can freak out about this later. because everything about him — his earnest brown eyes, those stupid, beautiful dimples — makes you want to scream.

and you’re so lost in repressing this scream that you don’t realise he’s stopped the car opposite your house, and is looking at you in concern. “___?” he questions. “are you okay?”

you force a smile, already unbuckling and opening the door. “i’m fine! don’t worry!”

the next day, you get absolutely wasted.

you’re out without seungcheol, for once; with old friends from high school and newer friends from college, which is an odd mix, but once everyone’s downed a few shots, it doesn’t really matter.

you’re downing more than a few — fuelled mostly by the thoughts of a certain brown-eyed, dark-haired boy, which keep seeping into your mind; a never-ending stream of oh, he likes this whiskey!, and ahh, he loves this song! and a billion other things that remind you of him. ironic, that you go out to drink, cancel on him and his plans, in order to forget him, but all you can think about is him. you see him in everything; you miss him when he’s not near; and you come to the drunken conclusion that you’re falling a little too far into a summer fling, and you don’t know how to stop yourself.

and when it’s time to leave, your friends don’t quite know what to do with you. all you can whine about, against the judgement of that small sober corner of your mind, is cheollie, i miss him~, janeese, can you call him for me? and janeese, bless her patient soul, does exactly that.

he comes quickly. he always does when you call. but usually, you’re not drunk off your ass outside a bar — usually, you don’t greet him with a delighted gasp and a squeal (“you came! i knew you’d come for me!”). but he catches you when you fling yourself against him, steadies you and smiles against your shoulder. “hey, pretty,” seungcheol says, in that smooth, soothing voice of his, lips against your ear in a way that makes even your drunken self stir a little. “let’s get you home, yeah?”

you don’t say much of anything coherent until he’s trying to buckle you in the car, at which point you lift your drooping eyes and stare at his figure leaning over you. “you’re so handsome it makes me angry,” you accuse suddenly, brows furrowing in a way that makes seungcheol laugh — surprised, but endeared, as he tugs on a strand of your hair and pulls away.

“thank you,” he pronounces, with a mock bow, before shutting your car door and getting in on the other side.

he’s barely left the street when you start crying.

he doesn’t notice at first, only when you start sniffling — at which point his head whips towards you: “holy sh— baby, are you crying?”

“yes!” you wail, rubbing at your eyes furiously. his eyes are flicking rapidly between you and the road, one hand reaching out to grasp yours.

“what’s wrong? what happened?”

“you happened!” you choke through a dramatic sob, pushing his hand away. “you’re so mean. you’re mean to me, seungcheol.”

“mean— what did i do?” seungcheol’s worries features pull into a frown, and he rakes a hand through his hair. “tell me, baby, i’ll fix it. i swear.”

“that, for starters! the baby thing!” you declares, waving your hand with a grimace. “you make me all mushy inside and that’s mean — and you ask me if i’m fine and i say yes and i’m lying, by the way, so i guess i’m mean too — and you’re so pretty and — i don’t know! is this a game? am i a game?”

seungcheol had started pulling over halfway through your speech, and now he turns to face you properly, hands reaching towards you, and then faltering — he starts saying something, something brilliant and comforting and sweet, you’re sure, but you’re already cutting him off in your drunken fervour.

“i think,” and you hiccup here, sniffing weakly and turning away from him, “i think i might start loving you soon, and i just — i thought — maybe you could like me back, even a little, you know.”

this time, seungcheol does reach out for you, cupping your face, turning your face towards him slowly. “i do, baby,” he says softly, “more than a little, okay? much more.”

you lean against his tender touch with a weak sniffle and pitiful eyes gazing at him. “a lottle?”

a smile curves his lips. “yeah,” he agrees gently. “i like you a lottle.” he pauses, thumbing away your tears with delicate touches. “so don’t cry, okay? i don’t like seeing you sad — and,” he adds suddenly, like he’s just remembered, “i don’t like it when you call me seungcheol, okay?”

“that’s your name,” you say weakly. “what else do i call you?”

“cheol,” he suggests, “cheollie. baby.” he pauses, looks at you for a moment. “boyfriend.”

“okay, boyfriend,” you say, giggling suddenly. “take me home.”

an / this is requested by an anon as part of my 1k celebration event! prompt was the song cruel summer by taylor swift <3

perm taglist: @n4mj00nvq @eoieopda @som1ig @glowunderthemoon @wondering-out-loud @graybaeismytae @hannyoontify @sahazzy @dokyeomin (send an ask to be added!)

[frannyzooey]

Short Days, Long Nights: 8

Joel Miller x f!reader

Rating: Explicit, grief

Series Masterlist

a/n: Thank you endlessly to @the-ginger-hedge-witch and @write-and-buried for their advice and reassurance on this one. ❤

--

The first time it happened, it was by accident. 

Loath to leave your warmth; one hand fisted in the hair at the nape of your neck, the other one curled around your hip to guide your movements in your straddle on his lap. The afternoon sun spilled in through the windows, dust motes floating through the shafts of light as you rode him and when you came, you tipped your head back with a strained, breathless moan. 

His eyes fixated on the image of your angelically erotic pose, he emptied himself inside you, filling you up until there was nothing left to give. 

The next time was an accident too. 

Finally ready to harvest some of the vegetables you’d been nurturing for months, you grasped the first stalk and pulled, brushing off the dirt delicately when it came free from the ground. You handed it to him, unadulterated pride shown clear on his face and his smile beamed so big you caught a glimpse of his rarely seen dimple. 

Tears had already begun to water your vision, slipping free when you saw his smile and he stood to pull you up so he could wrap his arms around you in a tight, unrelenting hug. His thumbs and his mouth brushed away the hot trails on your cheeks and you feasted that night, both on your new found riches and each other.

Bellies full of fresh produce and celebrating your hard earned success, he fucked you on the living room floor, with your mouth open and pleading for him as your tailbone rubbed against the carpet with every thrust. His need more intense than usual, his groan was hoarse when he came faster than he could pull out; his eyesight fading black around the edges with a spill as endless as the praise he panted into your ear. 

When he was done he stayed put, a comforting, solid weight on top of you and his lips peppered kisses along your hairline, the bridge of your nose, the corner of your mouth - everywhere he could reach. 

The third time however, wasn’t.

The days too hot to do anything but swim, you hung onto his shoulders and pressed your soft lips against his own until he all but dragged you up to the bank of the river, covering you with his chilled, damp body. You begged him for it then, begged him to fill you up as you sobbed with fullness, your knees hitched high along his ribs. Your hands grasped the swell of his ass to push him in deeper, his own knees streaked in dirt after he gave you what you wanted and his spend was slick and hot where it leaked out, smearing on his stomach when you wound your legs around him to pull him down for a kiss. 

You each knew the consequences of what you were doing. Neither of you acknowledged it though - you kept going because it felt good and right and with so little in the world that felt like that, you took what you could. 

Summer months slipped by as you slowly explored the woods around you, checking the other cabins one by one. Untouched for years, they held caches of canned food and clothes, outdated sunscreen and furniture thick with dust. Moth bitten beach towels, an indoor herb garden turned greenhouse that had consumed half a kitchen. Rotted curtains, limp baseball hats, forgotten gardening gloves. A deflated inner tube that you brought back and filled up manually just to spend the day floating on the water. 

One held a stash of wine that was so vast it took three trips to haul all of the bottles back to your own cabin, and though you knew absolutely nothing about wine, you couldn’t stop the excited yelp that escaped from your mouth when you found it. 

Scavengers, you ignored the pictures on the walls as you raided room by room, taking whatever you liked. Making it through seven cabins in total, you covered miles of woods; your book collection doubled, every shed picked apart for useful tools and supplies. 

Careful not to uncover the cabins more than you needed lest the structures be seen by anyone else, so far, you hadn’t had to worry about that. Joel still kept the traps up and running, still checked them every single day and locked up every night, but the immediate threat of another human being was starting to feel like a distant memory. As if time had paused when you found this cabin, the outside world disappearing when you first stepped off the path. 

The weeks went by quickly in a hot, humid daze and every night ended the same: with you curled up next to him, your bodies sweating on top of the sheets. 

–

You’d kill for a fan. 

Not even asking for air conditioning because to be honest, you were never really a fan of artificially cooled air (too cold), you want a fan desperately. Just something to move the stagnant air around, to relieve the thick, damp press of humidity that coats your skin. It envelopes you, your shirt stuck to the small of your back and you pick at it, giving it a quick shake in an attempt to dry it out. 

Joel is just as sweaty – his cotton shirt clinging to his back, dark with sweat along his spine and under his arms and you watch as the fabric molds and shifts over his muscles as he strong-arms the cabin door open. Stepping through into the shadows, his hand is bathed in light as it reaches back for you and pulls you into the dark depths, your flashlight ready. 

“At least it’s a little less hot in here, I guess.” You kick a stack of faded, dust coated magazines on the floor and he sighs, setting his pack down. 

“Yea,” he agrees, lifting the hem of his shirt to wipe his brow. “I’m gonna live in the water when we get back. Sleep outside, half submerged.”

“Ooh, can I join you?” you ask, wiggling your eyebrows and he huffs a quiet laugh behind you as you make your way into the kitchen. 

The first place you check in every cabin, you pick apart the cabinets looking for food while he combs through the bathroom looking for first aid supplies and medicine. All finds to be stacked on the floor in the living room, the two of you make quick work of it, too hot to linger. 

Rummaging through the dresser in the main bedroom, you check the sizes of socks and underwear – something you’re always in short supply of – and when you find a silky scrap of fabric buried beneath them, you pause. A more delicate piece of clothing than you’ve seen in a long time, your roughened hands caress the slippery negligee when you lift it from the drawer. The fabric catches on the pads of your fingers, the sensation making you frown and hesitating just for a moment while looking in the direction of the door, you fold it gently and put it directly in your bag, tucking it away.

He calls out to you when he’s done, and after dividing up the pile, your packs are substantially heavier when you start your walk back. 

Leaning forward slightly under the weight, you feel sweat glide down the line of your neck and you wipe it away, grimacing. 

“Do you ever think about what people would find if they raided your house?” you ask. 

Every single time you enter a cabin, you think about it. You can’t remember what state you even left your place in: not your original one, nor your apartment in the QZ. You assume they have given the latter away to another person who needs it; the thought not bothering you at all. 

He huffs, shaking his head. “A messy house, I guess.” 

“Same,” you reply. 

The moss below your feet muffling your steps, you each sit in your own head for a moment before you continue. 

“Have you ever thought about going back? You know, to like, get stuff? Or to just…see it?”

He shakes his head. “Nah. I mean, it would be nice to have some pictures I guess, but other than that…I don’t think I would want to.”

“So you’ve never tried it?” you ask, looking over at him.

“No,” he replies, his eyebrows raising. “Have you?”

You shake your head. “I’ve thought about it, but I don’t really have anything there.” Your thumbs hook in the straps of your backpack, your eyes staying down. “I feel like it would be too sad, you know? Like, in my mind, I feel like I would want to stay, thinking of it as my home and a place I would be safe, but I know that’s not true anymore. It would be…depressing.”

He nods, understanding. 

“Besides, I used to want to go back a lot more, but now I kinda…think of this as my new home. Everything I want is here.”

The confession slips out, the heat of the late afternoon muddling your thoughts and making you too tired to stop the words before you say them and as soon as you realize, you try to hide the vulnerability showing clear on your face by gesturing to the woods. 

It’s quiet for a moment, and you sneak a look over at him to find him looking back at you. Sunlight plays across his features, catching on the ends of his dark curls lifted in the humidity and the corner of his mouth tilts up.

“Yea,” he agrees. “Me too.”

Reaching for your hand to squeeze it, your palm sticks to his, tacky with sweat, but he still holds tight when you lace your fingers together. 

–

“Do you ever think about what people would find if they raided your house?”

His answer sounded indifferent at the time, but the thought bothered him more than he let on. It’s not so much the idea of his stuff being taken or rifled through because to be honest, he can’t even really remember what all was there. 

It’s the space being invaded by a stranger. Sarah’s room, in particular.

Someone rifling through her drawers, or sitting down on her bed. Someone taking the things he gave her - the idea of it constricts his chest, and he frowns, methodically checking the traps one at a time, wanting to get it over with before going for a swim. 

His dark curls stick to his forehead, his fingers pushing wearily through them with a scratch as he walks the perimeter of the cabin and her bedroom floats into his mind: the purple bedspread, the butterflies on the walls. The faded image is hazy around the edges and he’s not even sure he has it right, but the ache he feels is reminiscent of the one he felt briefly when you walked into the cabin the other day excited to show him something you pulled from the garden. 

Your smile and enthusiasm reminds him so much of her sometimes it hurts. 

The longer he stays here with you, the more it eats at him that he hasn’t told you about her yet. Never anything he wanted to share with anyone, he finds there is little that he doesn’t want to share with you now – save for this. 

Of this, he hasn’t spoken about in ten years. 

Of this, he still feels the weight of failure etched into his very bones. 

Of this, it still threatens to drown him some days in grief, if not for the way he’s buried it all down deep. 

Allowing himself to feel with you and slowly uncovering the pieces of himself that he had long since given up on, the burden of her memory weighs heavier on him every day that he’s here. It feels wrong that he hasn’t told you about her, as both a betrayal of her memory, but also of your trust. 

He tugs on a trap, making sure the ropes are snug in place and still thinking about you, his long buried grief and anger at someone rifling through Sarah’s room transfers to you and your things. The bookshelf next to your bed crammed with dog eared books, the plants along the windowsill in the kitchen, the stack of ten year old gossip magazines that you keep next to the couch for when you want to laugh at the trivial matters people used to care so much about. 

Your worn, cotton bedsheets decorated with delicate rosebuds. 

He wonders if your home looked anything like the spaces you’ve set up in the cabin. A cozy warmth radiating from your scattered belongings, some people might be bothered by them but he likes it. Similar to his own house once upon a time, it makes the space feel lived in; warm, inviting. 

The idea of someone finding this place and entering it, going through your things to take what they want – he knows it’s hypocritical to be upset about it, but a wave of rage pierces through his thoughts and he kneels, ignoring the call of the water to double check the trap in front of him. 

He clenches his jaw; Sarah’s bedspread and your plants lingering in his mind. 

–

“You okay?” you ask later that night, after glancing at his far away expression for the hundredth time. He’s been quiet since he got back, near silent during dinner and you can see the churning waters of his mind under the surface of his eyes. 

“Yea, I’m fine.” He presses a quick kiss to your forehead, and leaves it at that. 

He still seems distracted when he comes to bed, grabbing his book from the nightstand to sit propped against the headboard to read, and when you put your own book down and roll onto your side to close your eyes, he reaches to turn out the light and follows suit. He’s still for a while and then scoots closer, the warmth of his body felt from behind you as the bed dips slightly. His touch trails along the curve of your shoulder, following the length of your arm. There is no intention to it, nothing he’s initiating. A soothing, yet restless drag of his fingers along your skin and he’s wide awake, you can tell from the thrum of energy between your bodies in the dark. 

You open your eyes, rolling to face him and reaching to touch the curve of his cheek. 

“You okay?”

He takes in your face for a moment, his dark eyes drifting over your features. “I’ve been thinking about what you asked me earlier. About going back to see my old place.”

You shift, bending your arm to tuck it under your pillow. “You change your mind? You want to?”

“No,” he says quickly, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t want to go back because…” he stalls, letting out a breath. His jaw shifts subtly, and you wait, watching his face. 

“I had a daughter.”

The statement hangs suspended between the two of you, and not wanting to speak until you know for sure that he’s done, you stay silent.

“Her name was Sarah.” He frowns slightly when he says it out loud, like he’s in pain and his hand slips off your arm and down to rest in front of him on the bed. You follow it, placing your hand over his. “That’s who I would want a picture of.” 

“You don’t have any?”

He shakes his head slowly, his gaze unfocused. He smiles ruefully in the dark. “There was this one she kept in her room - I can still see it. The two of us, my hand over her eyes just jokin’ around and the smile on her face is –' His voice falters for a moment, and he stops, clearing his throat. The sheen of his wet eyes glimmers in the darkness. “She had a killer smile. You would’ve loved it.”

“I bet I would have,” you reply softly. 

His expression darkens, and your thumb sweeps across his skin. “I don’t think I could handle seeing her room, ya know?” 

His eyes meet yours, open and honest. “That thing you were saying earlier, about people going through your house? I know they’ve probably done it to mine and I don’t – I don’t think I could take seeing her stuff like that. Scattered, or destroyed. Rotted.”

A tear slips free, sliding through the creases lining the outside of his eye. “I wanna preserve the memory of her in that room. Sitting on her bed, listening to music or doing her homework…I don’t wanna see it empty.”

The sight of him crying makes your own vision blur, and you squeeze your hand in reassurance. 

“Of course,” you whisper. “God, of course you wouldn’t want to see that. I am so sorry I brought that up, Joel. I had no idea.”

“I don’t talk about her, so you wouldn’t know.” 

His words are quiet, yet definitive and ridden with guilt and he clears his throat, letting out a deep, shaky breath. You stroke his temple with your thumb, and he lets his eyes close, focusing on your touch. 

“How old was she, when she…” you don’t say the word, and he takes another breath, answering you.

“Fourteen.”

“How —,” you start, and then you stop yourself, giving him time to answer if he wants. He seems like he wants to, seems still agitated like there is something held inside that needs to come out and you wait, giving him time. 

“She died…the day of the outbreak. I tried to get her from the house when everything went to shit and she — she got hurt. I was carryin’ her, because she couldn’t walk and then…the soldiers that were going around in all the cities? I begged ‘em not to do it, but they shot anyway and I couldn’t –”

Another tear slips free, darkening his pillow case and he closes his eyes for a moment with a frown before opening them again. “I couldn’t do anything. Nothin’ but hold her and beg my brother to help me.” 

Realization hits you, your chest flooding with sorrow. “That’s the dream, isn’t it? When you call for Tommy.”

He nods, and you immediately reach for him, gathering him in your arms. 

He comes willingly, seeking out your embrace and the collar of your sleep shirt dampens against your skin as you stroke the crown of his hair. He’s a near silent crier, deep breaths taken in the crook of your neck as his wet eyelashes brush over your skin and he lets everything run out; his hands clutching you tightly. His arms tightening around you, you lay there and soothe him, saying nothing while your mind processes what he told you. 

You can’t imagine that type of pain. 

Not only to not only lose a child, but in that way. No wonder he was so closed off. 

The thing he loved the most - a kind of love you can’t even comprehend - violently taken from him the day the world ended and the path of the Joel Miller that came after sharpens, growing clearer in your mind. A brutal shell of a person, hardened by everything that’s happened. 

You’re still thinking about it when he lifts his head, apologizing for getting your shirt wet. 

“Hey,” you softly reprimand him, “don’t. You don’t — “ you start, and then his own words come to you. “You don’t gotta be tough here with me. I got you.”

He lifts the corner of his mouth at your impersonation of him, and you give him your own matching, small smile. 

“I mean it.” Your face slips into something more solemn, and you cup his whiskered cheek in your hand. He chases the warmth of it, leaning into your touch. “Listen to me. You didn’t do nothing, okay?”

He meets your gaze with an intensity of his own, and you keep going. 

“You said you didn’t do anything, and that’s not true, Joel. It’s not true.” He waits, and you continue in a hush. “You held her.”

His face softens, and another tear glides down his cheek. 

“You carried her and held her and even though you were scared — I can’t imagine how scared you were — you tried to protect her and then you held her. You couldn’t stop what happened and it’s not your fault, Joel. You did the best you could do.”

“It wasn’t good enough.”

Your own tears well up and slide free, your hand making sure his attention is on you. 

“It was, baby. It was.”

The endearment slips from your lips and he doesn’t question it, instead just looking at you for a moment before pushing forward to seek out your mouth with his own. You help him, pulling him in for a kiss as his plush, soft lips fit with yours, his mouth damp from his tears yet hungry for your taste and comfort.

You thread your fingers through his hair, tilting your mouth to deepen the kiss. “Tell me how to help.” Another kiss, another. “You want this? Want me?”

He nods, his nose brushing against yours and kisses you again, shifting to lay the weight of his body on top of yours. You make room for him between your thighs, your hands running down his back and the smooth, strong lines of it flex under your touch, a groan rumbling through his chest when you drag your nails lightly over his skin. 

“You’re so sweet. You taste so good,” he breathes into you between kisses, his hand reaching down to tug at the waist of your sleep shorts and you help him, pushing them down and off. Reaching between your bodies and slipping your hand under the band of his briefs, you find the hardening, warm heft of him and give him a firm couple of strokes. His hips chase your fist as he thickens in your palm and he rocks himself against you a couple times before lifting his own hips to shove them down. 

Unburdened, he gets hungrier, his hands helping yours as you tug at his shirt and then your own, the threadbare material of both tossed onto the floor. You want to feel every inch of him, pulling him down to you until he’s fit himself to your body, his skin feverishly flush against yours. His stiff cock fits along your slick seam, sliding through your folds when he rolls his hips against yours again, and again. 

“I want you,” you tell him, guiding his mouth to your own. “Let me make you feel good. I want to make you feel better.”

“You do, honey. You do.” Moving his lips to the edge of your mouth and then over the curve of your jaw, he licks along the hollow just under your ear before pressing a kiss there. “You always make me feel good. You make everything feel good.”

Your touch becomes almost frantic at his admission, the need to carve out a space for him inside your chest or merge your bodies into one or take his face into your hands and tell him until he understands just how much you would do anything for him. How much he means to you, how much you owe him. How much you want to protect him just as much as he protects you. 

He meets your urgency, his hands bracing themselves on the bed around your shoulders before he reaches down to line himself up, and you whine into his mouth when he notches himself against the dip of your entrance and slides in, filling you full. 

He breaks the kiss, his hips already starting a weighted rock. “Fuck, honey. Fuck.”

“Oh my God.” He usually gives you more time than this to get ready for him, usually uses his fingers and his tongue, and a tight fit, your jaw clenches as he makes room for himself, burying deep. “Joel.”

His mouth covers yours with a groan, drinking down the whimpers you let out with every push of his hips forward and you swallow every one of his, every grunt, every push of hot, humid air onto your tongue. His bicep strains under your knee when he hooks his arm under your leg to pull it up, first one and then the other, and he’s got you spread so wide underneath him between his deep thrusts and his solid body that you cry out for him, digging your nails into his hips for purchase. 

“You’re gonna make me come quick, honey. So quick –” he pants, his hips pounding into the cradle of your thighs. “And I don’t even care because you feel so fuckin’ good. So good.”

���Do it,” you encourage him, the words sliding into a moan. “I want it. I want you to come inside.”

“Yea?” he asks, his hand wrapping around your calve to tug your leg higher, resting it over his thick shoulder. Turning his head to the side, he presses a lingering kiss there, his breath washing over your skin and your mouth drops open at how deep he is. “You want it inside?”

“Please. Please,” you chant, helping him guide your other leg to rest on his shoulder and when he lets the weight of his body push you deeper into the mattress, you’re near bent in half, taking everything he needs to give. It’s a lot – too much, you’re going to feel it tomorrow – but you don’t care. 

“I’m gonna – I gotta do it harder, honey, because I’m –” he spits out the words, groaning midway through when he feels you start to clamp down around him. “Christ, you’re so fuckin’ tight. So tight for me.”

“I’m gonna come, Joel,” you whine, the heat building between your hips flooding through your limbs and up through your breasts, where they press against his chest. Sweat glides between your bodies, and he moans louder at your admission, almost a growl of victory. “Make me come, I’m so close.”

The two of you move with single minded intensity; one of his hands fitting between your tailbone and the mattress to hit the angle just right, and your hips pushing up to meet his every punishing, weighted stroke down. 

He’s so thick, and filling, and heavy, your cunt so slick as he pushes in again, and again, and again, his mouth open in a pant above you with your knees almost at your shoulders and when you come with a sob, he buries himself deeper than he ever has with a weighted grind and does the same. 

The soft give of his belly jumps against yours, his throat stretched taut as he works in every last drop and when he finally relaxes over you, he’s gentle in his movements. His hands help your legs down – first one, then the other - and his mouth finds yours, giving you a kiss. Your legs find a home in a wind around his waist, your hold guiding him to lay on your chest and even though you could have killed for a fan earlier and still could, you keep him there. 

You nose along his sweat damp hairline, pressing a kiss on his slick temple and content, the two of you lay in silence; the only sound your shared, heavy breathing. 

His body melts on top of you, all taut agitation in his limbs gone as he pushes his arms underneath your back to hold you tight and you know he’s slipping into sleep by the way his breathing evens and slows under your palms. 

He’s still snug inside you, but you make no effort to move him. 

“Thank you for telling me about her,” you whisper to him, your fingers carding through his dark, unruly curls shot through with gray but you’re met with silence. 

Unburdened, he’s already fast asleep.

[celestialprincesse]

Bourbon 🏜🥃

You linger somewhat awkwardly in Simon's kitchen, eyes darting about to take everything in whilst you run the pad of your forefinger over the ridges of the glass which you currently sip from. The newcomer seems to observe you with something you could almost see as appreciation, chocolate eyes flitting from your head to your booted toes.

"Nice place." You hum, trying unsuccessfully to break the silence, pulling the sleeves of your shirt over your palms. "Got it cheap." He nods, turning back to the casserole dish which he warms through on the stovetop. "Everything here is cheap." The sound of your voice comes out so unintentionally bitter that you force yourself to clear your throat as you stare at him with a flush overtaking your cheeks, suddenly intrigued by the contents of your glass.

"Haven't seen you 'round." Simon observes, taking the pot from the stove and placing it on the dining table, reaching too easily to the top cupboard over the sink to withdraw two bowls, sliding them across the table whilst you automatically fill them with the casserole. You can't help but to hum in satisfaction when the steam finds your nose and makes your stomach growl.

"Don't get out so much." Your voice fills the kitchen as he stares at you, handing you a fork. "Too much to get done at my place. Tryna get ready for when summer starts proper."

"It's June." The soldier before you chuffs, and you think perhaps he raises an amused brow beneath his balaclava.

You give a noncommittal hum at that, settling in the chair opposite him and pointing at the hulking figure hunched over the table with your fork. "July's when it gets real hot. Days get longer." You advise, taking an appreciative bite of your own cooking, lips kicking up in a smile when he gives a nod of enjoyment himself. With the balaclava rolled halfway up his crooked nose, you can't help but appreciate more than just his quiet company, but also the pronounced bow of his lips and the strong set of his jaw, shadowed by just barely grown out stubble and a wry smirk.

"Good to know." He grunts before taking another mouthful of his food whilst you take a long sip of bourbon to distract yourself from the off-putting sensuality of his movements.

"Marlene saw you at the body shop. You fix cars or sum'n?" "Marlene?" Simon nearly chokes at your bluntness before his surprise turns to amusement at how you're practically more socially inept than he is.

"Marlene. Pretty, blonde, talks like she's verbally incontinent? Flits around Frank like a moth to a flame?" "Frank?"

"Hell." You huff, pinching the bridge of your nose between your thumb and forefinger.

"What?" He grunts with a chuckle that has your heart doing flips against your ribs.

"You know anyone here?" "I know you." That wry smile pulls at his lips again and you think that if he keeps looking at you like that you'll either puke or cry - or wind up on your knees - which you'd really rather not be doing when you've known this guy all of five minutes.

"Frank's a mechanic, works at the bodyshop, which Dean owns. Marlene is Frank's girlfriend - and the biggest gossip on this side of the equator."

"Right - and Marlena-" "Marlene." "Marlene told you I fix cars?"

"No. Marlene told me she say you at the body shop and by the state of the Chevy outside I put two and two together."

He gives a thoughtful hum at that, looking over at you with a glint in his eye before washing down his last bite with a swill of whiskey.

"I'm no mechanic but I know a thing or two." "About old cars?" You can't tamp down the obvious hope in your voice as you stare up at him in a way that makes his stomach tighten.

"How old?" "I got a '69 fastback. S' a mess and I got no time to look at it properly. Not even too sure where to start."

"I'll come over and have a look tomorrow." Simon grunts, leaving no room for argument as he goes back to eating whilst you stare like he's just told you he's actually Superman disguised as a very handsome, rugged military man.

"Eat your dinner."

[pablitogavii]

Hiii, can you do pool sex with Gavi in ibiza? lots of love x

Hot Summer Days

Today y'all decided on a pool day at the villa you were staying at wanting to stay in and just spend some time together in peace.

Pablo usually doesn't mind people walking up to him for photos but he does get annoyed that every time he goes out there is another 'rumor' about him plastered on the internet. So he prefers to stay in his known circle of friends.

You changed into a red bikini and joined Aurora and the boys outside certainly catching boy's attention. Javi chuckled into Aurora's ear pointing at Pablo's stunned face.

"If you don't close your moth, you will drool hermano!" she teased him and he rolled his eyes walking up to you and pulling you into his grasp.

"Mm you're torturing me with that bikini princesa.." he whispered into your ear and you blushed knowing how easily Pablo gets turned on (he's 18 haha) and kinda liking the effect you have on him.

"I thought you'd like it cariño??" you say innocently and he caught onto your game pulling you even closer and leaving kisses on your neck.

"Oh I do like it..a lot..but if they don't stop staring you down, I will poke their eyeballs out!!" he said and you chuckled shaking your head and wrapping your eyes around Pablo's neck while kissing his lips.

"This is all for you Pablito..for you to watch..and touch..and take off later" you whispered the last part and Pablo felt his shorts tighten at the thought of taking that bathing suit off your body and having you all to himself.

"Alright, that's it! She's coming with me cause we have things to gossip about!" Aurora snatched you from Pablo's grasp and you giggled while he shamelessly clenched his jaw while checking you out from behind.

"You're a lucky cabrón hermano..." Ale said and Pablo snapped his fingers in front of his face making him look at him instead of your ass.

"She's all mine, sabes!?" Pablo said and his friend raised his hands up in surrender before they both laughed and went to play some music on the speakers.

No even half an hour later, Pablo found himself sitting in the pool with his friends but unable to move his eyes from your bum as you laid on the lounge bed with Aurora sipping on your cocktail and chatting about some girl stuff.

Damn your ass was so round..and juicy..and delicious..joder Pablo! Fucking focus!

"The sun is hot today, don't you think chicos?? Maybe you should go help your girl put some sunscreen on Pablo??" Mario suggested and all the boys knew what he was aiming at as they caught Pablo staring at your ass.

"Yeah, it's not like that would give you an excuse to touch her.." Ale added and Pablo flipped them off but did what they suggested getting out of the pool and walking towards you when Aurora left to the bathroom.

"Hola nena.." he said sitting on the towel beside you and you moved slightly still on your laying on your stomach to be able to see his face.

"Hola cariño. How's the water?" you say and he said it was refreshing although he felt very much hot right now.

"The sun is very strong today..shouldn't you put some sunscreen on preciosa??" Pablo said feeling dumb for listening to his friends but also hoping you would let him 'help you' like he planned.

"You're right! I forgot..um could you" but you didn't even need to finish that sentence since Pablo already grabbed the bottle and started rubbing some sunscreen on your butt. You smirked wanting to play with him a little.

"I was gonna say give it to me but looks like you needed an excuse to touch me Pablito??" you say and he looks at you smirking a little while leaning closer to whisper into your ear.

"Let me enjoy myself just a little bit preciosa..." and with that he kept massaging your ass and you blushed letting him have him waited moment. He applied sunscreen on your back, legs and arms as well but then once again returned to your ass.

I am sure my ass is well protected now Pablito.." you smirk and he shrugs nodding his head and seeing that his sister was returning from the bathroom. He tapped it one last time before putting away a sunscreen, kissing your lips and whispering into your ear "meet me at the hot tub" before leaving.

"He can't even leave you alone for an hour.." Aurora teased laying back down and you told her you needed to head inside for a moment before sneaking towards the hot tub which was secluded on the opposite side of the villa.

"Cariño??" you whispered seeing that nobody was in the hot tub but then suddenly strong arms wrapped around your body and hot kisses were left on your shoulder and neck.

"Ughh mi amor..I need you right now..so badly" he groaned as you both went into the hot tub and he grabbed you with his arms making your thighs wrap around his waist and his lips attacked yours passionately.

"Umm..Pablo..what if they come here?" you say pulling away from the kiss listening to reason but he reassured you boys will not come and they will keep Aurora away. You couldn't resist any longer..not with the way he was kissing you right now.

He slowly pulled your bikini to the side and pulled himself out before fitting deep inside of you shutting your moans with his mouth on yours. He let you adjust to his size before slowly moving and making your head fall back as he was fucking you with so much passion the whole world was spinning.

"Aahh..please..please don't stop!" you said and he reassured you that you have all the time you need and that he will never stop loving you like this. Your nails scratched his back and he groaned feeling your walls clench around his member.

"Just like that angel..clench around me like a good girl! J..joder!" he spoke into your ear as you were both chasing your highs kissing every available inch of each other's skin.

"Pa..blo..I'm so close! Fuck!" you moaned feeling his reach his high which sent you over the edge as you both moaned into each other's mouths catching your breaths.

"Joder! I love vacations and I love you! So freaking much!" he said and you both giggled calming down and fixing yourselves up before he carried you bridal style back to the pool.

He placed you on the bed besides his sister kissing your lips lovingly.

"Yo te amo!" he said and you said it back before he left to join his friends in the pool.

"Um..I ran into him and he carried me back..." you lied to Aurora although you both knew how absurd that sounded so you both laughed.

"You have no self control perro!" Cristo teased Pablo who rolled his eyes looking towards your blushed face proudly.

"Neither would you if your girl wore that bikini.." he smirked to himself proud that you were all his truly feeling like a lucky cabrón.

[ogamipukobye]

[elvisabutler]

one night of sin

fandom: elvis 2022 | elvis presley rating: m pairing: elvis presley ( priest au ) x female reader word count: 3003 warnings: priest kink. religious talk. cheating ( reader is technically cheating on her boyfriend ). minor implications/ideas of entrapment. minor breeding mention ( like blink and you miss it ). cum swallowing. boot riding. oral ( male receiving ). an obscene amount of the words father presley used. elvis ia a catholic in this because that's my specific flavor of priest. improper confessional. author’s note: welcome to day 15 of ally’s wet hot smut summer, religious kink/priest kink with 68/69 era priest elvis presley x reader. so. long time no see? i got no excuse but to simply explain that when you need the us government to go fast, it'll go slow as molasses in january in yellowknife but when you need it to maybe go a little slower you end up concluding what has been a nearly 5 year long adventure in less than two months. america y'all. BUT. i'm back with a new shift, a sleeping pattern that enables me to not pass out every hour and a priest fic for the smut summer ( that's now just smut last half of the year ) to tide y'all over while i finish up spark and other shenanigans. pick your poison the elvis though to be honest.

"A woman like you should know better," Father Presley murmurs in your ear as he pulls you in for a hug. Unlike most Fathers the congregation has had, he's always been more of a tactile person. He's always joked that it came from his Pentecostal upbringing even as other there were always titters about how it came from actually being a Baptist. Father Presley would turn the other cheek though, a true sign of how he was a good godly man. A man who truly was meant for the cloth.

Yet, your body craves him, and you desire to be on your knees, praying to God and him for salvation. The Lord wouldn't allow the devil to tempt you so viciously with Father Presley. There had to be some good in this temptation. There had to be a plan you were yet to be privy to, but perhaps perhaps the Father might be.

"What did you mean by a woman like me?" You ask after the service legs crossed at the ankles in a plush chair, long after you should have left to spend time with your significant other. He was a boyfriend you had been steady with since college, and yet neither of you had decided to marry. Neither of you had decided to walk down that aisle despite both of your parents insisting on the union. You ought to be spending time with him, but more and more, you found yourself in the rectory with Father Presely discussing any number of topics. He was intellectually stimulating in a way those around you weren't, and you found yourself drawn like a moth to a flame to Father Presley's light.

Father Presley looks up from the papers he had been scribbling on, and you feel a shudder pass through you at the heat in his gaze. The Father shouldn't be looking at you like that. Your boyfriend barely looks at you like that, and yet here the Father was with eyes that set a fire ablaze inside you and underneath your skin. A part of you wants to hang your head in shame, to hide your face as if the Father is stripping your purity with every second he looks at you. If you were being honest with yourself- he already had been. A woman like you should know better than to fantasize about the man who God chose to lead the congregation you're a part of. You always found yourself in the late night hours before bed or the early morning hours before daylight, wondering how his plush lips would feel against your neck, sucking marks on your skin. You wondered how the occasional beard he grew would feel between your thighs and against your most intimate parts. Against your will your thighs clench at the thoughts that float unbidden to the forefront of your mind.

His eyes dart down to your clenched thighs and you see his nostrils flare before he speaks. "A woman who believes in God and who cares about how he sees her. You should know better than to fall for tricks the devil puts in front of you."

Tricks. The word feels like a joke bouncing about your head once it leaves his lips. Was that Father Presley confessing to you that he wasn't a force of good in the world? That he was sent by the devil himself to tempt young women such as yourself to the side of the dark. No, no, Father Presley wasn't that sort of man. Maybe he wasn't perfect but he loves God so much and the mere idea sends a shiver down your spine and through to your soul.

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips before you swallow. "And what sort of tricks are those, Father?"

If you weren't paying attention to his face, you'd miss how his jaw clenches and miss how his hand tightens on a paper he's holding. You are paying attention. Rapt attention as you always do for Father Presley and you can't help the smile that crosses your lips. He may not be sent by the devil to tempt young women but maybe you were sent to tempt him. And it appears that it might be working. You're playing with fire though, hellfire and damnation you could joke but but something in the way Father Presley stands up from his desk and makes his way to the front of it has you willing to risk even more.

"You ain't naive, lil one," his voice is pitched so low you almost don't hear him but the words are there, just barely. "You're so innocent, so pure n' righteous but I know ya. Ya ain't the least bit naive. Ya know better than this."

To play with hellfire like this. Perhaps that was the point, perhaps you knew better and yet you also knew this was what you wanted. You wanted to see how far you could push Father Presley, you wanted to see if he would finally break and join you in having a mind swirling off and on with images of the two of you entwined together. Lips pressing against one another and against every body part. Your clit throbs at the memory of your dream from last night.

With a shaky exhale, you try to respond with something witty and charming and expected. "I'm only a woman, Father Presley. I- I'm not- I'm not as innocent as I once was."

You watch as something shifts in Father Presley at your words, how his jaw tenses and he finally moves the front of his desk to right in front of you. He's always been a bit taller than you, than most of the congregation, and yet you've never realized how overpowering that simple height difference could be. You've never quite realized how his broad shoulders and thick arms could cage you in with an ease until you found yourself in the position. Your breath comes in short pants as you swear Father Presley steals them from your chest. His eyes roam across your body, beginning at your open mouth, gliding down your neck and chest and down, down, down until he stops at your thighs.

The thighs that are clenched together so tightly he reckons you'd be able to form a diamond out of coal from the pressure. He can hear the whispers of the Lord telling him he shouldn't do anything. That this is a test the Lord wants him to pass. Yet the longer he looks at you, the longer he sees your chest rise and fall with shallow breaths of desire the louder the voice of the Devil is in his ear becomes. You want this, you need this. You deserve this for being such a pious young woman. You weren't like some other girls who thought they could throw themselves at him, no, you stayed pure and so very inviting for him.

He moves a hand to under your chin, grasping it lightly in an effort to have you look at him. His words leave his mouth in a murmur. "Have ya done somethin' ya need to confess?"

A burning fire rolls through his veins at the idea, threatening to envelop the two of you in hellfire from the Lord smiting you where you both sit. He watches as you open your mouth to speak only to have something akin to a low whine leave your lips. "Lil one, I asked you a question. Have ya done-"

The words are cut off by your answer, a measured response where you drag the words out. "Forgive me Father, for I have sinned."

He's heard so many people say those words through tears and with husky breaths yet the way you say it has him needing his own confession. The way your eyes look up at him with desire and pure unadulterated need have him exhaling heavily. "When was your last confession?"

It was last week, he knows because you were always so dutiful in admitting when you had done wrong. The glint he sees in your eyes tells him you hadn't admitted this before, hadn't dreamed of putting this sin into words for him and for the Lord. That devilish voice becomes just a bit deeper, a bit more pronounced.

"Last week. But- Father, I- I've been keeping this a secret. From you and the Lord." Your voice shakes even as your gaze on Father Presley is steady. "I've- I've-"

"It's alright, lil one, this- this ain't any different than the other times you've confessed, you can jus' see me now. The Lord is forgiving if you're truly repentant, darlin'. are you?" His thumb brushes against your chin and it occurs to him that if he moved it just enough he could run his thumb over your lower lip, could coax them open like he was going to feed you a wafer. "Tell me what it is."

"I've thought of you sexually." You whisper quickly and quietly, your face and body heating up as if you've caught it on fire. Is this the Lord smiting you for finally admitting what you've done? Putting into actual words your desires and wants? "I've touched myself to the thought of you, Father. Touched between my legs and cried out for you to help me."

It's not that you mean to utter such filth so quickly and with such fervor but the more the fire burns within you the more you can't help it. Father Presley's gaze is unwavering even as his jaw tightens more and more with each passing word. You swear you see his eyes becoming hooded, a dangerous glint forming as his pupils start to widen and his nostrils flare. Against your better judgment, your hand sneaks up to his jaw.

"Don't," he growls, his grip on your chin tightening as he does. "Don't touch me like that. You- you know better."

The cracks that had always been there, miniscule as they were are widening with every second the two of you are in this room. His clerical collar is choking him, tightening like a vice grip the longer your hand stays on his jaw.

"Father Presley. Forgive me, but I want to. And I think you-" Stopping yourself, you take a deep breath. "I'll repent if I can just have one time with you."

A moment is all you have to regret the words that come out of your mouth before he backs away from you like he's been burned. Shame runs through your body infecting every inch of you as you start to get up, ready to run from the room. Hiding would be an acceptable alternative than seeing the look on his face become one of pure disappointment and distaste. So busy with the thoughts in your head, you don't realize that he's moved back in front of you until his hands grab your hips.

"One night," he commands with a tone that offers no questioning. The tone he uses at the pulpit, the one that forces everyone in the church to hang on to every single word that passes by his lips. A shiver runs through your body as you start to drop to your knees despite the way he tries to keep you from doing so. "Don't- Get back up here."

A head shake is the only response he gets as your hands move to the front of his slacks, shaking as you fumble with the button and the zipper. His cock is warm to the touch and firm as your brush against it and you wonder how it's supposed to cool the fire between your legs. If anything you worry it'll stroke it even higher and higher until it burns the two of you to ash and takes the church down with you. You've gone far to back down and once his pants are finally undone, his cock springs from its confines. He hadn't worn underwear, his bare cock had been so close and yet so far from you. You've never seen one before, not up close and personal but you know from the way his thighs tighten there's something different, something that makes him nervous as you lick your lips, admiring the head of his cock trying to peek out from the skin that surrounds it like a casing.

As your hand moves to grasp at his cock, Elvis grabs your wrist and holds it tight for a moment. "It's different, I know, lil one. But-"

If the ache between your legs didn't make you want to cry from sheer desire and if you had something to truly compare it to, you're certain you would have wanted to defend Father Presley's cock, tell him that you haven't seen anything more beautiful in all your years of living. Instead you allow yourself a tentative lick, looking up through your eyelashes to see Father Presley's head lean back, eyes looking up as if to pray for salvation.

His hand drops your wrist and moves to your shoulder, clenching and holding on for dear life as you play with the slit, unsure of how to move the skin around. You mouth at his cock, spreading your spit and his not small amount of precum around it. Noises you've only ever dreamed of ripping from his mouth exit in an unending stream as his hand moves to grasp the back of your neck, pulling you off as much as he can, even as your teeth graze at his cock. "Darlin' you- You gotta move up the skin, let 'im in your mouth fully."

His grip loosens the moment your hand slides his foreskin up and without missing a beat your mouth is back on him, tongue playing with the slit of his penis, and trying to take as much of him in your mouth as you can. What you can't get into your mouth, your hand grasps, trying to make sure every moment of this is something you can remember all those nights when you won't have this, won't have him. A hand makes it way to your hair and you whine around his cock, wanting him to do something with it. The chuckle he lets out, low and practically devilish is all the warning you get before his hand yanks at the ends of your hair. If your mouth wasn't full, you're certain you'd have cried out as you grind against the floor. As it is, he still hears you, still understands what he's done and yanks again, watching as your eyes roll back in your head.

"Takin' me so well, such a good woman. Saved your mouth and everything just for me, haven't ya? Been achin' wit' no relief from that boyfriend of yours. Jus' wanted a forbidden fruit like Eve, didn't ya?" He knows the words he's saying don't make sense, that it's murmured and muttered as he focuses on the warm heat of your mouth and the feel of your tongue against his cock and tracing the veins. "Lord's pushed us too far. Couldn't- Shoulda- Been wanting to taste ya for too long. Needed ya for too long."

He shouldn't admit this, shouldn't tell you these things but it's as if the devil himself has taken over his body and filled his mouth with every sinful thought he's had of the two of you. Your thighs clench and he moves his foot in between them, trying to give you something to grind down on proper. And grind down you do, whimpering and groaning around his cock, almost seeming to bounce as you chase a release while bringing him to his own.

"Devil put us in front of each other- tempted us till we broke but this- we'll get it outta our systems. Gonna forget all 'bout this after tonight. No one but us and the Lord'll know. Won't have anythin' to 'member tonight wit'."

You nod, even as your mind tells you that's not what you want. Even as your mind tells you that you want to remember this and that you want to beg him to give you something to remember this by. That's not what you're supposed to do, what either one of you are supposed to do and yet it doesn't stop the desire and need you have for it. It doesn't stop your mind from picturing a life past tonight with him as his grip tightens once more when he yanks and your clit brushes against the toe of his shoe. You feel your orgasm slam through you at that simple brush, already overstimulated and aching and you worry you're going to stain the carpet or the leather of his shoes but looking up, you realize he won't care.

"Gonna have ya swallow, lil one. Gonna be good for ya," he groans, even as his minds supplies an image of your face and hair painted with his cum. At another drag of your teeth along the underside of his cock, your mouth fills with the salty tang of his cum. Your mouth fills with it and you have to force yourself to start to swallow quickly to avoid choking. Your eyes burn from the effort but it slows quicker than you expect, leaving you exhaling through your nose heavily and inhaling the full musk of his pubic hair. His grip on your neck is the first thing you feel as you start to come back to yourself and you let him pull you off his cock, opening your mouth when you feel his thumb against your lower lip.

"Didn't waste a drop," he whispers, patting at your neck and motioning for you to stand up. Your legs are shaky but he helps, even as you fall against his chest, so warm and inviting.

"Father-" You start to speak only to be silenced by a finger to your lips as he starts to walk both of you back to his desk.

"For tonight, it's Elvis. Let me take care of you."

taglist: @ab4eva , @blurredcolour @butlersxbirdy, @precious-lil-scoundrel, @eliseinmemphis, @prompted-wordsmith, @missmaywemeetagain, @lookingforrainbows, @araxw, @thatbanditqueen, @ellie-24, @austinbutlersgirl67, @heartbrake-hotel, @ccab, @18lkpeters, @slutforsomegoodlettuce, @dkayfixates, @pinkcaddyconfessions, @chasingwildflowers, @notstefaniepresley, @wanderingelvis, @kxnnxy, @powerofelvis, @stylespresleyhearted, @be-my-ally, @mooodyblue, @pixiedustcosmos, @jessicarcates, @amydarcimarie, @flwrs4aust, @myradiaz, @adaydreamaway08, @doll-elvis, @whatstruthgottodowithit. i literally think i used spark's last tag list. lord help me i don't even know.

[fairydvsts-blog]

𝐢 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

JJ Maybank x fem!reader

"i love you" in Taylor Swift's lyrics masterlist

summary; your husband gives JJ a maintenence job at your vacation house and you spend all summer crushing over your hot new employee

warnings; characters are aged up (both characters are in their mid/late 20's), cheating, SMUT, dirty talk, some neck grabbing, female masturbation, overstimulation, squirting, praising, p in v, unprotected sex. I feel like this shit is LONG af!

a/n; english isn't my first language, so you might find mistakes; I'm open to constructive criticism. Enjoy!

It was a very warm afternoon in Outer Banks. The sky was completely clear —there wasn't a single cloud in sight— and the sun was shining brighter than ever, but that was not what had gotten you all hot and bothered.

JJ Maybank, the new maintenance guy, was.

As you were lounging on the deck chair beside the pool, holding some random book you weren't paying attention to in your hands, you couldn't take your eyes off him. Being a hundred per cent honest, it had been that way since your husband hired him a few weeks ago. Luckily for you, neither of them seemed to have noticed yet.

You felt guilty for being attracted to him, though. You had been married for two years, and you were supposed to be in love with your husband, not craving other man's touch. But you couldn't help it. There was something about JJ that was drawing you like a moth to the flame; maybe it was his gorgeous blue eyes, his silky blonde hair, or his ripped muscles, or maybe it was all of them together, either way, you had managed to suppress your feelings for what felt like ages in order to not ruin your wonderful —but really boring— marriage.

Little did you know that your self-control was about to go to shit.

You had tried to focus on your reading for several minutes, and to date, you had failed miserably. Your mind kept going back to earlier that day, when JJ had brushed past you in the hallway, remembering how you had looked right into his alluring eyes, wishing for him to push you against the wall and to fuck you right there and then. You had to cross your legs at the thought, feeling your bikini bottom getting wetter by the second.

It was wrong and forbidden, you knew it, but in some way, that made it more exciting.

You stared at him through your sunglasses, mesmerised by the way his sweaty golden muscles glistened under the sun rays as he mowed the lawn. You were so busy imagining how his wet skin would feel against your own that you hadn't noticed the furtive looks he was giving you.

Your mouth almost watered when you saw him grabbing the hem of his sleeveless t-shirt to take it off. He threw it on the floor next to him and then he reached for the garden hose soaking himself with it to cool off. He ran his big hands through his blonde locks to accommodate his hair after that; the veins of his arms on display for you to see.

You swore you saw it all happening in slowmo. The little smirk that appeared in his face just seconds later while he shortly glanced at you gave you butterflies.

You realised something: he was doing it on purpose.

And, oh lord, that just made you want him even more. You were so horny that, for a moment, you thought you were about to literally combust in the spot.

Without giving it a second thought, you gave into the desires you had been repressing for weeks now.

You dropped your book instantly, grabbing the strings that held your blue bikini top in place to untie them. Your top dropped, leaving you exposed in front of a man that was not your husband, but you couldn't care less about that fact. His eyes widened because of the scene occurring before him, but he didn't look away at any moment, mesmerised by the sight of the woman of his dreams pouring tanning oil over her almost naked body.

He had to be delirious, right? The heat was making him delusional, that must be it.

Whether it was true or not, the boner forming in his trousers was pretty real so he picked up his t-shirt, using it to cover himself before he started walking towards the back door of the house. He had to leave before he did something stupid, like accidentally fucking his boss' wife while he was away on some business trip.

"I have finished for the day, Mrs. Ross. Do yo need something else before I go?" he asked in his way out.

He tried to keep the interaction between the two of you entirely profesional and he even resisted looking at your naked breasts. It was the hardest thing he had done in his entire life, though, because since he had started working for your husband, you were the first thing that crossed his mind when he woke up and the last thing he thought of before going to sleep.

But you knew professionalism had flew out of the window after the show you just put.

"Actually, could you rub some oil on my back?" you asked with a playful smile.

You gave him no time to answer and you handed him the tanning oil bottle, turning around after he took it, leaving him completely speechless. He gulped, his eyes looking directly at your ass, only covered by a really tiny thong, and he knew he was done for.

Leaning over you, he purred the oil on your back. When his hands touched you to spread it over your skin, you closed your eyes and almost moaned like a hormonal teenager. He gently massaged your shoulders, then your waist area and finally he reached your lower back, giving you goosebumps.

When you thought that he was over and that he was going to pull away, he surprised you by grabbing the oil bottle one more time, purring it over your legs. He started massaging your calves, moving up slowly, until he reached your upper thighs and a small moan escaped your lips; it had been too long since the last time you had sex with your husband and you felt like you could come untouched.

He leaned in, you felt his hot breath in your ear and he murmured, "You wouldn't believe how many times I have fantasised about touching you like this, Mrs. Ross."

One of his hands grabbed your ass cheek under your bikini bottom while he started placing wet kisses on your neck, making you whimper again. He had to stop, though, when you turned around to face him; he froze at the thought of you changing your mind about what was about to happen, but when you caressed his cheek and placed a gentle kiss on his neck, next to his ear, all of his fears vanished.

"And you wouldn't believe how many times I've touched myself, wishing it was your fingers instead of mine, Mr. Maybank," you whispered looking right into his blue eyes.

"Fuck."

He grabbed your neck and brought you closer to him, your mouths were so close that they lightly brushed over each other. You felt his breath becoming faster and your heart started pounding like crazy when you saw him licking his lips while looking closely at yours, but you forced yourself to pull away from his touch.

"Someone could be watching us, we should get inside," you suggested.

The last thing you wanted was your husband finding out about you and JJ. This was a one time thing, just to get him out of your system. After that, you would go back to being the perfect loving wife your husband deserved.

He nodded, agreeing with you, and helped you getting up. He reached for his t-shirt to cover your naked form with it before grabbing your hand and taking you inside.

"Be quiet," you asked, while the both of you sneaked around the massive house, trying to avoid your nosy housemaid.

You made it to your bedroom successfully and as soon as both of you were inside, JJ pushed you against the door, locking it.

"Can I kiss you?" he questioned, pressing his body against yours.

"Yes, please."

He didn't waste any more time, finally crushing your lips together. The kiss was heated, messy, hungry. His hands sneaked under your clothes to grab your waist with need, pulling you even closer to him. You felt frantic as you wrapped your hands around his neck, kissing him back like you were drowning and he was air.

His tongue slipped between your lips. completely devouring your mouth while one of his hands gripped your neck to keep your head pinned against the door; you broke the kiss, whimpering in his mouth because of the action and he kept his forehead against yours, looking into your eyes as both of you tried to steady your breathing.

"Why don't you show me how you touch yourself when you think about me, baby?" he whispered.

Your heart skip a beat after hearing the words he spoke; you had never done something like that before, yet you nodded, making him smile. He kissed you gently before taking off your —his— shirt and then, only wearing your bikini thong, you moved towards the bed, where you sat.

You placed your feet over the edge of the mattress, spreading your legs, and leaned on your elbow to make yourself comfortable. His eyes never left your body, analysing every inch of your exposed skin.

"You're beautiful," he complimented you, which encouraged you to move your hand down your belly until it disappeared under your last piece of clothing.

You panted when you felt your fingertips brushing your needy pussy for the first time, biting your lip right after. Your cheeks flushed when JJ squeezed his cock over his pants while hearing and looking at you; seeing him so into it motivated you to keep going.

Your fingers started rubbing circles over your swollen clit, slowly at first, but you were so turned on that soon you sped up your movements. You were soaked and even the lightest touch sent sparks of pleasure across your entire body. A small moan escaped your lips when you traced your entrance with two fingers, slipping them inside for a second before taking them out again.

"Take this off, baby, I wanna see you," he pleaded, kneeling between your legs on the bed and grabbing the straps of the bikini.

Yo nodded, pulling your hand out of if and lifting your hips so he could take the thong off. He moaned at the sight of your glistening cunt and placed his hands over your knees to further separate your thighs.

Under his attentive gaze, you pushed your middle and ring finger inside of your pussy, curving them so you could reach that spot in the front that made you see stars with each thrust. You made sure to rub your clit with the palm of your hand, too.

"That's it, princess, you're doing so good for me," he praised you, moving one of his hands up your leg until it reached your chest, where he started touching your breasts, "Wish those where my fingers, baby."

You moaned because of his words as he unfastened his belt with his free hand, unbuttoning his trousers right after. He reached for the waistband of the pants, pulling it down so his underwear was in sight. You gasped when you were able to see the outline of his dick under his boxers; your mouth watered at how big he was.

You added a third finger, desperate for cumming; your arousal was dripping all over the bedding, making a mess.

"I'm so fucking horny for you, JJ," you told him, calling him by his name for the first time, "I'm going to cum."

You couldn't even remember the last time that you had fingered yourself so hard. Or the last time that you had been so fucking wet. He smiled, lowering his hand to touch your clit with his rough thumb, making you moan repeatedly.

You felt the familiar tingling in your lower belly, your breathing hitched and before you could stop it, you were coming harder than ever. Your muscles tightened and your legs started shaking uncontrollably. Overwhelmed by such a strong orgasm, you took out your fingers, trying to close your legs to soothe the sensation, but JJ wouldn't let you do so. Instead, he replaced your fingers with his own and he kept fucking you with them through your orgasm.

"JJ, please, stop, it's to much! Baby... Oh fuck!" you moaned, grinding your hips against his hand despite the overstimulation.

"I know you have another one in you, princess," he said, working his fingers harder and faster inside of you, "C'mon, be a good girl and cum for me."

He placed his free hand over your pelvis, putting pressure there, while he curved his fingers in his direction. In less than thirty seconds he had you coming undone again. Your vision went blank as your entire body trembled and you squirted all over him, crying out his name like a prayer.

It took you a few minutes to recover from the most explosive orgasm of your life, realising you had completely soaked everything. JJ laid down next to you the whole time and didn't stop caressing you for a second while he whispered sweet things to your ear.

You turned to look at him with the biggest smile and you said, "I didn't know I could do that."

The blonde laughed softly, burying his face on the crook of your neck, where he started placing wet kisses while his hand went to rub your pussy again, collecting your squirt to lick it off his fingers with a lustful look in his eyes.

"If I were your husband, I'd make sure you squirted every fucking day of my life, baby." Your cheeks flushed.

You bit your lip, pushing him so he was laying on his back and straddled him, grinding your wet cunt over his clothed dick; he was so hard that he thought he was gonna cum in his pants at the sight of your naked body dry humping his cock.

"Fuck me, JJ, please," you almost begged, still turned on in spite of having come twice already.

"Wait, I have to grabb a condom." He tried to stand up, but you grabbed his neck and pushed him back on the bed, stopping him.

"You don't have to wear one. I'm on the pill and I'm clean," you explained, tracing his abs with the tip of your fingers.

"I'm clean too," he promised, you lifted your hips with a smirk covering your face.

"I trust you," you said.

You helped him getting out of his clothes and your eyes widened when you finally saw his naked cock bounce back against his stomach. He was really, really big. Much bigger than your husband for sure.

You grabbed his dick on your hand, making him moan, and you stroked him a few times before brushing his swollen red tip between your folds.

"Oh my God," he groaned, his head falling back against the mattress.

You repeated the action one last time before you began to lower your hips slowly, shoving his dick inside of your pussy. You moaned at the stretch, placing your hand over his broad chest to steady yourself, and you started bouncing on his cock, trying to find a rhythm that both of you liked. When you saw him frowning and breathing fast, you knew you had found it.

Whimpering, you asked him, "Does this feel good, J?"

"Yes, so fucking good, baby." He gasped, grabbing your hips to help you ride him.

His own hips started thrusting upwards, trying to match your pace, and you couldn't help but moan when he hit the right spot again. You tightened your muscles around his dick on purpose to make him feel as good as he had made you feel before; you smiled when he cried out, pounding into you harder.

"I'm not gonna last if you keep doing that, baby," he admitted.

His hair was stuck into his forehead due to the sweat, covering his eyes a little bit, so you caressed his face and took it out of the way so that he could see you better

"Want you to come inside me, J," you asked for, "Want to feel you filling my pussy."

"Oh fuck, baby, you're so hot...I'm close," his statement encouraged you to start bouncing faster on his cock.

You whimpered when one of his hands made its way to your pussy and began to stroke your clit. You wanted, no, needed to cum again, so you took his other hand and placed it over one of your tits, which he squeezed and started playing with. At the same time, you leaned over him and placed wet kisses all over his chest, feeling his abs tightening under your palm just seconds later, announcing his orgasm.

He became a hot moaning mess under you while you kept riding him through his climax, but his thumb never left your clit as he rode it out, taking you down the cliff with him after a few seconds; your pussy clenched and your eyes rolled back due to the sensation. He sat up, kissing you one last time before he pulled out. You could feel his sticky cum come out of your pussy as you laid down next to him. JJ cuddled you, putting his head over your chest.

"I think..I think you have become my new addiction, Mrs. Ross," he confessed.

You smiled briefly before placing a soft kiss on his forehead.

"I can see you being my addiction, too, Mr. Maybank."

[riaki]

— last train at 25 o' clock | suguru geto x reader fluff(???)/light angst @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat please take this bc coffee shop geto is gonna take a bit

it's 1am in the morning, the train platform's a ghost town, and the hum of the vending machine is all the noise in the world as you and suguru wait for the last ride home after a mission.

wc : 2.6k cw : brief mentions of blood ; references to hidden inventory arc , shoko typical smoking , probably some other stuff i'm forgettin not proofread!!!! also he may be ooc srry

i cooked this up last minute cus i remembered my promise of posting every weekend last week so my bad if u can tell its rushed lol post hidden inventory pre defection

suguru remembers it like it was yesterday.

the song of summer insects reaches your ear as you clamber up to the train station platform; a pandemonium of cicadas and crickets that sing odes to the full moon in the sky partially curtained by dark clouds and the dew on the grass that's begun to form.

"damn, it's hot." you muttered, wiping your forehead as your arm shot out to grab the dirty railing, white paint cracked and peeled as a splinter pricks your fingers and you flinch. suguru follows after you; a small hum is your acknowledgment.

"careful. shoko doesn't like dealing with splinters," he says from behind you, stepping up the stairs two at a time to straighten up on the train platform, hands in his pockets. “i don’t have reversed curse technique healing either.” there's the smell of a storm in the air, and the lights overhead buzz and flicker with the intermittent beat of a moth's wings. you just give a dip of your head in acknowledgement as you pry your hand away from the railing, the scent of old wood lingering on your hand as you wipe off the dust clinging to your palm on your pants.

(geez, you two have no sense for these types of things.)

suguru holds a hand out, and you take it eagerly to let him pull you up the last step, before politely letting go and slipping it back into his pocket once more. you let out an exhausted sigh and stand up, rubbing your tired eyes as you look around.

the platform is deserted save for the stray cat beneath the station bench, sniffing at a clump of weeds growing from the metal leg. there's a vending machine up against the wall to the elevator, an obnoxious painted 'out of order' sign on the lift's muddy glass doors, stained with dust, dirt, and fingerprints. there's some... creative graffiti on the wall, and a starch yellow section of caution tape flutters in the humid evening wind.

the cat scratches at the concrete floor, and its matted white fur and crystal blue eyes remind you of someone. you glance up at suguru, poking his arm to get his attention.

"look. it's satoru." you huffed, still a little loose for breath as you reach out and grab his shoulder, leaning against him for support. the dark-haired boy just laughs a little, taking his phone out to snap a picture and no doubt send it to the white-haired brat. "i see it." he leans a little closer to you; it's subtle, and you don't notice it, but the way his shoulders sag just so you have an easier time holding on speaks volumes. "don't send it to him! he's probably asleep right now. think it's past his evening sugar high?" you asked, glancing up at him with a tilt of your head.

"most likely. i think he got sent on another solo mission today." there's a tiny bitter bite to suguru's voice that underlines its usual velvetiness; like an ocean current beneath the waves that you only find once you've been dragged underwater. you don't say anything about it, though. the sleeves of his uniform crumple beneath your fingers when they curl into the fabric, a shiver running down your spine as goosebumps spring up on your skin like shroom caps after the summer rain.

suguru is observant.

"you cold? you can have my jacket." it's immediate, and his voice is as smooth as cream silk and marble as he shrugs your hand off (much to your dismay-- shown with a bite to your cheek) to unbutton his uniform jacket, slipping it off his shoulders and offering it to you. when you stand there, feeling a little daze and a lot tired, he just smiles, shoving it in your face with a low chuckle that sounds like honey pouring from a jar.

"you sure? you can hug a cursed spirit if you get cold, 'cus you're not getting it back." you sighed after a moment, reluctantly taking his jacket and tugging it over your shoulders. it's warm, and it smells like his cologne- like some natural incense that soothes your nerves and loosens your body to the marrow in your weary bones. you bury your nose in it and forget to think about the warm hue on your cheeks that you'll later chalk up to the humid air.

"i'm sure." the cat by the bench perks up, staring directly in your direction. it yawns, before bounding away, disappearing behind the vending machine with a flick of its cloud white tail. the machine is missing a few rows of drinks, but the green of a melon soda can that's far too saturated to have a name to the original fruit and the cream and red of a yakult bottle are enough to catch your eyes beneath the harsh light of the display.

"still don't understand how you get cold on a night like this, though." he makes a gesture towards 'this' with one hand, fingers flexing in a way that makes your heart flutter unreasonably.

a moment of silence passes; you can see the distant lights of some prefecture over the hill, and your mind briefly wanders to rainy afternoons, puddles reflecting the red neon of passing cars and distorted faces under plastic umbrellas sandwiched between painted concrete and a dark sky.

"you want a drink? on me, as thanks." you say, breaking the sound of silence and nodding towards the vending machine as you look up at suguru. it takes him a moment to respond, so you use the opportunity to admire his profile; the slope of his nose, the deep hazel of his eyes that shine a copper rust beneath the pale yellow light overhead. his hair is a little messy; it's falling out of its slicked back bun, a product of your earlier fight. there's a scrape on your ankle from tripping through the bush in an attempt to put distance between the curse when you had been engaged earlier; it still stings. there's a tightness to his jaw, you notice- and some part of you wishes you could take it for yourself.

the section of dark hair in front of his face sways as he turns to look down at you, gaze charting the corners of your face (your cheeks look soft, he notes) before he opens his mouth to speak.

one kick to the machine, a disappointed frown when nothing comes out, and two yen bills later, the pop of can tabs fills your ears as condensation seeps into your skin, a pleasant relief from the heaviness of the summer air. it's too much when the cold side of a drink is pressed to your cheek, though-- and you let out a yelp of protest, shooting a quick glare up at suguru, who just laughs it off and takes a sip of his drink.

you down a sip of your own; it's a sweet fruit tea that's your go to whenever it's hot out. sweet, citrusy, like starfruit. it tastes like a summer of youth and a warm blue spring. it's pleasant.

a distant rumble echoes from the dark horizon, and both of your gazes simultaneously snap towards it-- at last, you think. the last train is here. you adjust suguru's jacket around your shoulders, catching a whiff of something that smells like rosemary and new leather as his voice fills your ears.

it's an easy night when you pass the threshold and step into the train car, speckled white floors and blue hard seats greeting you. somewhere, there's a ticket stuffed into one of your pockets; a memento of late evenings that blend into early mornings when there's a bruise on your face and a knick on suguru's wrist that soothe themselves with the harmony of small talk and sensation of fizzling bubbles in cold metal cans as the train jostles you along. you're sitting, and he's standing, one arm on the hangers overhead as you talk about everything and nothing. he catches himself every now and then, watching with minimal interest as the sliding doors part themselves like gateways to the afterlife for ghost passengers. it's not your stop yet; far from it.

"say, suguru-- do you miss going on missions with satoru?" you asked after a moment, fingers drumming against your knees as the automated voice overhead announces the next stop, empty farm plots and tangles of wire passing by as the lights inside cozy houses dim and go off.

he doesn't answer that, so you just look out the window.

(suguru, you gettin' enough sleep? heatstroke?)

"how's the cut on your leg?" he finally murmurs after a moment, his eyelids heavy before he tears his gaze away from a tacky advertising on the wall and back to your scrunched nose.

"annoying." you just sighed, and you watched as he gave a small smile; his eyes fluttering shut, long lashes resting against his cheeks. you wondered if the wings of a butterfly would be heavy enough to weigh them down.

he moves after a second, sitting down one seat away from you in a swift motion and beckoning for you to lift your leg. you comply, not entirely sure where it's going- until he gently rolls the hem of your pant leg up, pressing the cold edge of his half-empty soda to the angry red scratch, and you wince a little before letting out one, long sigh. you melt into the chair, feeling like a senior citizen with a hunched back and one too many shrine visits under a bleached kyoto sun.

"thanks." you mumbled, leaning your head against the window as the train jostles ever so slightly to its own tracked rhythm.

he just hums in response, pulling a worn bandaid out of his pocket; the plastic top has pen smudges on it and the white wax gets caught between his pearly teeth as he tugs it off, taking time to make sure he positions the healing strip properly before flattening it down on your leg.

"shoko makes no sense when she talks about her reversed curse technique, so this'll do." he says quietly, and you let yourself fall into the pool of molasses that comes from his throat as you close your eyes, feeling the dull sensation of pain drain from your muscles and melt away like the first waves of spring and the ripple of lake water as a lone sakura petal disturbs the mirrored blue surface.

"i could learn it." you said after a moment, pressing your lips together in an attempt to snuff out the feeling of his fingers lingering on your skin, toying with the loose edge of the bandaid. he just snorts, and you crack one eye open to glare at him.

the rest of the train ride is spent in silence; you slip in and out of a hazy sleep, and you're faintly aware of the timeline-- somehow, your drink ends up on his lips. your head ends up on his shoulder, and your ears pick up his quickened heartbeat. his warmth is nothing like the humidity that clings to your skin like a layer of smoke and vapor, accompanied by sticky dango and raucous laughter weaving between the sounds of fireworks and the crunch of dirt beneath pairs of geta. he smells like home and his soft hair tickles your face as your little breaths squeeze past your parted lips, a warmth like bumping shoulders and linking fingers seeping into your body like the steady stream of fine sand in an hourglass. a warmth like empty classrooms lit by golden hour; windows cracked open to let in a fresh breeze as the faint smell of cigarette smoke drifts up to the room from the brunette and her lighter beneath the patch of shade from a tree in the courtyard below.

(need a light?)

this is how it's been for the past month. tired mumbles and hushed murmurs exchanged between two people who are more than friends but less than lovers after each harrowing mission; shared drinks and linked pinkies, the warmth that stains cheeks rosy when fingers that look small against calloused ones brush with another hand reaching for the metal pole on the train. heavy silence as you fall asleep on his shoulder; faint tingles when his fingers graze your knuckles as he stares at the dark reflection in the windows across. even the windows know how to make him relax.

one day, it'll be just him. a white bird stained black by apollo's hand in a sea of dirty geese, silent as the others hawk and squawk for a place on the lake. one hand hooked around the hard plastic of a hanger, supporting heavy shoulders with weight that could rival atlas' burden. a boy so tired of being beaten by the waves that he succumbs to the undercurrent with the same practice as before, only the paint on the railings has chipped past repair and not even the greenery of the countryside can touch the stains on the windows to his soul; eyes that used to shine with mirth and crinkle with gentle smiles become sunken and heavy with experience more suited to those a decade older.

he'd already chosen his path when he offered his jacket to you; when he laughed at the way you'd sneezed after investigating the patch of weed that had captured the stray cat's attention from before. and he knew that you'd noticed, and he knew that you'd try, and he knew that he wouldn't let you.

he knew when he woke you up with a gentle nudge to the forehead, suppressing the fluttering feeling in the heart he didn't know he still had when you made a grumpy tired face and stood up with much effort and a stumble or two.

(damn monkeys.)

it was easy nights like these that he'd eventually miss the most. walking you back to your dorm, past the candy wrappers and empty cola cans in the halls stained with imaginary blood and passing glances. departing with a kiss goodbye when he knew you were too drowsy and delirious to be able to remember it come morning.

the swing of a jazz rhythm would get stuck in his throat when you stumbled, only catching yourself from the jolt of the train's stop by latching a hand onto his wrist like some evil little lamprey and muttering a small 'sorry'. he'd laugh it off, collect the empty bottles of drinks of debt, and tug on the sleeve of his jacket on your arms, gently helping you off the platform as your pant leg slid back down to cover the bandaid on your leg, rough fabric scratching away the ghost of his touch on your skin. he wished it would just stay for a little longer.

and when the morning came and you woke up in your bed with his scent on the fabric of your shirt, you'd do it all over again. the only part of the terrible cycle he ever took pleasure in. even when the vile taste of a cursed spirit sunk into his stomach, it would be washed away with the right pop and fizzle of sugary drink followed by an even sweeter kiss to the knot between his tired eyes.

there was nothing about your time together he wouldn't ever miss.

you'd be his past, his present, and his afterlife. even when it was his turn to get off the ghost train and step past those sliding doors that held new meaning, you were the last thought on his mind.

one day, he hopes to see you again, when the last train comes in the night so late it could be considered early morning and the platform can relive old memories of peeling paint on a past summer spring once more.

hope u guys enjoyed the catoru cameo my (riaki) stuff. don't repost and/or plagiarize !

[f1letters]

f1letters' formula 1 fic recs - pt. 1

✨ SURPRISE! ✨ as an early Christmas gift for all of you, and since I will be continuing the 'midnights' series during the holiday season as well, I decided to make a small list with some of my all-time favourite stories!

I tried to include a variety of different drivers to the best of my ability, which was harder than I thought it would be, since some drivers don't have a lot of stories available (every single person writes for alex, lance or esteban deserves a giant smooch from me, I swear), or I don't read them as much. for other ones, I have like 20+ stories saved so it was really hard to stick to only a few! haha

anyways, I hope you enjoy this little present from me and I encourage you guys to check out all of these amazing and talented writers!

happy holidays to all of you lovely people! 💜 - cat

max verstappen | mv1

'long time lovers' || @libraryofloveletters

'little verstappen' || @lxclerc

'traitor' || @lxclerc

'dog days' || @tierneysodegaard || 13 parts

'our dirty little secret' || @timetorace || 2 parts

daniel ricciardo | dr3

'stargazing' || @art-outlaw || 28 parts

'memories hold me hostage' || @libraryofloveletters || 2 parts

'you abandoned me' || @lovingperfectionsblog || 2 parts

'sweet boy' || @unluckyhoneybee

'twin flame' || @vinvantae || 26 parts

lando norris | ln4

'breaking the rules' || @f1goat || 7 parts

'mini norris' !! @unluckyhoneybee || 2 parts

sebastian vettel | sv5

'after all this time' || @kates-dirty-sister

'chapters from an old book' || @libraryofloveletters

'thin walls' || @tierneysodegaard

pierre gasly | pg10

'pillow' || @illicitlimerence-writes || 4 parts

'one true love' || @mytinycrazymind

'secret' || @mytinycrazymind

'fake it till you make it' || @smoooothoperator || 6 parts

charles leclerc | cl16

'a moment in time' || @hey-kae || 2 parts

'babies and bahrain' || @illicitlimerence-writes

'little enzo' || @mytinycrazymind || 2 parts

'maybe summer doesn't have to end' || @rebelwrites || 11 parts

'the real deal' || @rebelwrites

lance stroll | ls18

'sugar plum' || @libraryofloveletters || 2 parts

'summer lovin' || @libraryofloveletters

'yule shoot your eye out' || @lovelytsunoda

'the second one' || @unluckyhoneybee

alex albon | aa23

'made in the a.m' || @lovelytsunoda

esteban ocon | eo31

'hot n cold' || @lovelytsunoda

'be my date' || @timetorace || 2 parts

lewis hamilton | lh44

'love you from the sidelines' || @libraryofloveletters

'old flame' || @lostinlewis || 5 parts

'what you can't have' || @luvth0t

mick schumacher | ms47

'dress' || @daydreamingleclerc

'lost in japan' || @illicitlimerence-writes

'romeo & juliet' || @illicitlimerence-writes

'see you later' || @illicitlimerence-writes

'sparkling' || @illicitlimerence-writes

carlos sainz | cs55

'in this lifetime or another' || @libraryofloveletters

'cockblock' || @lxclerc

'nothing happened' || @timetorace

george russell | gr63

'never really over' || @charlewiss-writes

'who you belong to' || @russellsppttemplates

multiple drivers

'bad omens' || @lxclerc || cl16 x pg10

'moth to a flame' || @lxclerc || cs55 x cl16 || 2 parts

'all too well' || @targaryenluv || lh44 x pg10

'are you happy now?' || @oyesmendes || pg 10 x gr63 || 3 parts

PS: if you want, feel free to leave your recommendations in the comments and/or message me! i'm always looking for new fics to read and I'd love to know your favourites! 💜

[your-eternal-lies]

HEAT OF THE MOMENT (AU masterlist)

Main Navigation || Follow @your-eternal-library and turn on notifications for all of my fanfiction updates.

FEATURED PAIRINGS — Fire Chief!Ari Levinson x Reader / Firefighter!Bucky Barnes x Reader / Firefighter!Jake Jensen x Reader / Small!Firefighter!Steve Rogers x Reader / Fire Marshal!Frank Adler x Reader / Firefighter!Loki Laufeyson x Reader / Firefighter!Lloyd Hansen x Reader / Firefighter!Thor Odinson x Reader / Firefighter!Pietro Maximoff x Reader AU INTRO — The local fire department, the famous and beloved Station 616, is just teeming with eligible bachelors... but not for long! Summers are for falling in love, after all.

CONTENTS AND WARNINGS — Modern AU, firefighter AU, crossover fic, language, fluff, mild angst, sexual content (ranging from mild to explicit), rom-com vibes, no use of y/n, each character gets their own Reader (not a poly fic), playboy tendencies, age gap, friends to lovers, workplace romances, enemies to lovers, allusions to divorce/troubled marriages, and possibly more as the stories are written.

NOTE — Each story is a three-part miniseries and can be read as standalones. I do not currently have any plans to write any more than what’s listed, but I will never say never. There is also no release schedule; I will post at my own leisure so please refrain from asking, thank you!

LAST UPDATED: March 31, 2024 STATUS: Coming Soon

PLAYING WITH FIRE ft. Fire Chief!Ari Levinson x Photographer f!Reader

Ari is the dedicated fire chief of Station 616 who runs the show with an iron fist and a heart of gold, but the one thing he can’t seem to get a handle on is his personal life—until the Station is partnered up with a new bright-eyed photographer for this year’s charity calendar photoshoot. Part 1 ┊ Part 2 ┊ Part 3

MOTH TO A FLAME ft. Firefighter!Bucky Barnes x Firefighter f!Reader

There are strict rules to be followed in life, otherwise the world would descend to chaos, right? You insist on never dating a coworker, while Bucky insists on not dating at all. Well, fortunately for the both of you, everyone knows rules are made to be broken. Part 1 ┊ Part 2 ┊ Part 3

FIRE AND WHISKEY ft. Firefighter!Jake Jensen x Bartender f!Reader

It’s tradition that the entire squad heads down to the same local hole in the wall for any occasion, no matter what it is, okay? It has absolutely nothing to do with Jensen’s insanely obvious crush on the badass bartender, capeesh?  Part 1 ┊ Part 2 ┊ Part 3

COMIN’ IN HOT ft. Small!Firefighter!Steve Rogers x Volunteer f!Reader

At just 5’4” and 95 pounds soaking wet, Steve is the scrawniest yet the most determined member of the 616 team. Often underestimated, he finds solace in a budding relationship with the part-time volunteer at the firehouse, who seems to see right through his physical appearance. Part 1 ┊ Part 2 ┊ Part 3

BURNING UP ft. Fire Marshal!Frank Adler x Business Owner f!Reader

You are horrified when you head to work one day only to discover that your precious store has gone up in flames. And if that isn’t already terrible enough, it seems the crabby, unsmiling fire marshal assigned to your case is already convinced that you’re guilty of arson. Part 1 ┊ Part 2 ┊ Part 3

HEAT WAVE ft. Firefighter!Loki Laufeyson x Environmentalist f!Reader

Loki, the enigmatic and secretly sensitive member of the team, is dispatched to a scene across town, he’s not expecting anything out of the ordinary. Imagine his surprise when he finds a woman from his past, chained to a tree, and leading an environmental protest that is quickly getting out of hand. Part 1 ┊ Part 2 ┊ Part 3

WARM BEDS ft. Firefighter!Lloyd Hansen x Teacher f!Reader

Lloyd doesn’t actually like teaching fire safety to snot-nosed brats, but he loves going on the prowl for his next one night stand with the single moms, teachers, and school administrators… until he meets his match in a new no-nonsense teacher, who remains frustratingly unimpressed in the face of his uniform and charm. Part 1 ┊ Part 2 ┊ Part 3

HOT-BLOODED ft. Firefighter!Thor Odinson x Grad Student f!Reader

You’re usually very level-headed, okay? You’re not usually the type to get into scrapes like this. All you wanted was a tiny bit of revenge on your cheating, lying ex-boyfriend… you didn’t expect your rage to get the better of you, nor did you expect the fire you set to his car to get so out of control.  Part 1 ┊ Part 2 ┊ Part 3

WORLD ON FIRE ft. Firefighter!Pietro Maximoff x Reporter f!Reader

Rumours begin to swirl around Station 616, calling into question the integrity of the fire department’s hiring policies. But when you meet Pietro Maximoff, the firefighter at the centre of all the controversy, suddenly the price of a potentially career-making story is no longer one you’re willing to pay. Part 1 ┊ Part 2 ┊ Part 3

NOTES — I cannot wait to share these with you!!! 🥰

[calpurniatypes]

𝒔𝒊𝒙𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒛𝒊𝒏𝒆 ; 𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒗𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒕𝒐𝒏 𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕

you mention to steve that you want to have a child, and he goes... well... a lot off the rocker

warnings; breeding kink, penetrative sex, oral ( female recieving ), dirty talk, talk of pregnancy, fucking hot steve

my overall masterlist

the light above you collected moths under the summer night as you lay, stretched out, on a pool-sunbed, flipping through the pages of one of steve's mother's magazines.

both of his parents had now passed away, which, though sad in nature, was freeing for steve. you'd never been a fan of either of his parents since he'd told you about the ways they'd reared steve. or, should you say, hadn't brought him up. you and steve had finished cleaning out their rooms, going through old junk and vintage items three weeks ago. you'd moved back to hawkins from chicago, where you'd been a successful author, managing a large publishing company, and he'd been a salesmen working a steady job as manager of a large chain of stores.

it only had made sense to move back to hawkins, though you two shared unpleasant and traumatizing memories in the town. recently, after the passing away of her parents, nancy and jonathon had returned, along with their daughter. will and his partner, whom you'd met a handful of times, still lived here, and the chief, who you'd always regarded as a father figure, was getting frailer.

now, as you thumbed through the pages of the magazine, your eyes caught on a specific article, the title long worn away by time and cheapness.

reading through the pages, your chest tightened at the ideas floating on the page. children, sex, raising babies into strong young people, all things that seemed too vulgar to be in a sixties magazine.

as you kept taking in the words, a sort of excitement billowed inside of your chest. the idea of motherhood had been something you'd liked, even as a child, when you'd stuck your tongue out at all dolls and anything remotely motherly.

now, though... you wanted that baby. you wanted the love you would share, you wanted steve to experience fatherhood in a positive light.

as the screen door open, you jumped slightly. "sorry, col, didn't mean to scare you," steve said, moving to lay down on your lounge chair next to you. you set down the magazine on the table, leaning up to kiss his lips tenderly.

he nestled against you and wrapped his arms around your middle.

"how was the grocery?" you asked, breathing in the thick night air.

shrugging, steve answered, "same as always. I did run into erica, though. pregnant, and back in town for the weekend to visit her mother."

your eyes opened wide, "erica sinclair is pregnant?"

he nodded, "yep. and glowing too."

you closed your eyes, envisioning erica with her own child. then, as though on a slideshow, the image faded into you, standing with steve, a child holding both of your hands as you walked down the sidewalk.

"col?" steve asked, turning to you.

the image was still in your head as you traced his lips with your eyes. "steve, don't you ever want to have children?"

he took a sharp breath, and through his eyes you could tell he was running through answers. then, slowly, he nodded, "with you, yes, totally. do you?"

you let yourself think before talking too quick, "yes, yes, yes. i mean, yes with you, definitely."

steve paused at the hearing of the those words. he was thrilled. he'd always wanted to have a child, to be a better father then his was.

but seeing erica in the store, that had made him want it more. it could have been anyone, but the look on her skin as she glowed. that was something he wanted you to have. he wanted you to glow in that way. he wanted you to be full. he wanted you to have his child.

"when?" he asked, and you could hear the lust creeping into his voice.

"you got a new job, i've been signed a contract, we have the money and the community surrounding us..." you drew out, tapping your fingers along the side of your jeans.

"so now. you want to have a kid now." he finished for you, and you nodded quickly.

"yes. if you want to, of course, only if you want to."

steve answered quickly, "i really want to."

you gazed at each other for a moment, and then it was like something from a film. your lips contacted each others in midair, and steve pulled you onto his body, his hands gripping your waist and shoulder.

it was so heated between the two of you that you thought you might have a fever. he reached down to unbutton your jeans, and then pulled his hand away.

"is everything okay?" you asked, and he shook his head.

"i need to have you, and i can't have you out here," he motioned around you two, where his neighbors could clearly peep into his yard, his voice husky and deep.

"then let's go somewhere we can be alone," you got up, and steve was next to you a second later. hands connected, he pulled you up the stairs and into his room.

sitting down on the bed, he watched as you stood in front of him.

"take off your clothes," he commanded, and you shuddered at the way his eyes were practically fucking you already.

you pulled your cotton shirt up, leaving you in just a sports bra, and then unbuttoned your denim jeans. now just in your panties and bra, steve's hand slipped to his crotch.

you moved to him and straddled his body, grinding into his hard cock. his hands found your back and you breathed against each others mouths, his right fingertips locked against your scalp, yours on his own.

before you could tell where you were, steve had set you down on the bed, pulling off your panties as you lay on your back.

his hands were cold against your clit, and you moaned instantly at the feeling of his fingertips. he rubbed small circles with one hand as he pulled his clothes off with the other.

"aren't you a good girl, darling, letting me get you ready for my cock, huh?" he said, and you moaned. you were wet now, and you swore you were making a puddle of juices on his blanket.

your back arched with pleasure as his mouth found your clit, flicking along the sensitive bundle of nerves. "steve," you groaned into the air conditioned coolness of his room.

"keep talking, darling," he breathed against your pussy, sucking against the bottom of your clit, his nose rubbing circles into the top half. you could feel him smile against you as you repeated his name, over and over.

"oh, god, steve, oh god thank you," you moaned out, and you could feel yourself reaching your high.

it came on you like a train, hitting you with so much pleasure that your vision, or whatever was left of it in your hazy, steve-drunk mindstate, was dotted with white.

slowly steve rose from your clit, and pulled your face into his to kiss you messily. you could taste yourself along the fine curve of his lips, along his tongue as it plunged into your mouth.

you could feel his fingertips leaving your head and moving down, down, down, to his crotch. you listened to the wet squelch as he pumped his cock several times, and then he pulled back from you.

"move back, darling, against the pillows," he whispered, and you complied, your body slow after your orgasam.

"steve," you whispered, the syllables slow coming out of your mouth. "get in me right now."

"so demanding, honey." he tisked, and though normally you would grin, now you only wanted his cock inside of you. "but i'll give you that, if you want it."

he pumped his cock again, and you watched with half clothed eyes as he pressed his tip into you, his legs outside of yours, your chests smushed together as he slowly entered you.

"always so fucking tight, darling," he grunted, "gotta get you stretched out."

it always took a while for him to enter you, but this time you wanted him more then you ever had before. the seconds ticked away like hours, and when he finally bottomed out, you both moaned at the same time.

"god, i love you so much. let's get you full, darling," he said, his mouth against yours.

it seemed now that the only thing you could say was his name, and the moans falling around every word were so harmonic that steve could cum just at the sound of it.

"can i come, please?" you asked, finally straying away from sounding like a broken record. it took almost everything you had to even speak, and your eyes were rolled back.

"no," steve moaned, "let me come with you, darling. hold i."

you could feel his rough, deep thrusts become sloppier, and his fingers, which were wrapped on the cheeks of your face, became harder. he was getting close, and you were already at the edge.

"oh, honey, is this so hard that you can't do it? you have to come for me? well, my little cock-drunk whore, you are just going to have to wait. won't breed you if you come." the words coming from steve's mouth were so dirty that it brought you closer to coming.

"please, please," you pleaded, forcing yourself to stare at his eyes. he could see yours watering, tears threatening to spill.

"hold it, honey," he commanded, and the thought of him not coming inside of you kept you from your high. you wanted his child.

"so excited to see you fucking full and swelling, darling. so excited, so fucking excited." it took you a moment to realize that his hands had moved from your face and were now on your back, pulling your bra off your body.

his face met your breasts the second the fabric disappeared. he sucked, nipped, and bit at your nipples and the supple flesh of your boobs. "god, i love you. so beautiful, so beautiful. all for me, your mine."

"steve, i can't hold it, please," the pleasure was so intense, so deep, that you started to sob.

"let go with me, darling," he pulled his face away from your tits, and the second he gave you the go ahead, you did just that.

if you thought your last orgasam was good, this one was mind bending. you lost yourself, your body, where you were for what seemed like years.

it was only steve pulling a pillow from behind your back that brought you to life. you were shaking, hard, from the exhilaration of it all. tears stained down your cheeks, and you wondered how one person could be so beautiful. his hair was long and messy, and you held your hands to his head as he positioned a pillow underneath your hips, propping your pussy into the air.

his fingers prodded at your opening for a moment, and you watched his face as he stuffed his cum deep inside of you.

"can't let it slip out, darling. we'll get you fucking swelling on the first try."